


Between Heaven and Hell

by AmandaCanzo, MoiraiFata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaCanzo/pseuds/AmandaCanzo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiFata/pseuds/MoiraiFata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is only 14 years old when he turns. Right before Dean's eyes the only thing he still cares about is taken from him and used against him. He has been betrayed and abandoned by everyone else he has ever loved. He always believed it when his mother told him that angels were watching over him, but what can he do when they aren't the only ones watching? What can he do when even the angels can't save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kiv2c0PrxpY

Dean always takes everything Mary tells him to heart, believing that his mom would never lie to him. This is why he believes her when she tells him that angels are watching over him every night. What his mom says is always the truth and that is what Dean will always believe. 

“Dean, sweetheart, come here,” Mary calls, early one morning after John has gone to work. Dean bounds over to her, climbing on her lap staring up at her with the kind of awe only a child has. “You know how I tell you about angels watching over you every night?” Dean nods. “Well it’s true, they are. And soon one will come down from Heaven and become your friend.” 

“Really?” Dean asks excitedly. He doesn’t have any friends, and as much as he loves his baby brother, Sam is no fun to play with yet. Mary smiles and nods. “When Mommy? When?” Dean whines hoping it’s soon. 

“Soon, love,” she soothes, running a hand through Dean’s hair. “Let’s go see if Sammy’s awake,” she suggests, picking him up and going upstairs to the nursery. Dean struggles out of Mary’s arms and runs over to Sam’s crib. She doesn’t quite know what to expect, but she hopes this time they get it right. The future of her family depends on it.

“Hi Sammy,” Dean whispers, poking his hand through the bars of the crib to hold Sam’s tiny hand. Mary reaches down and pulling Sam into her arms. Dean grins, scrambling over to the rocking chair. As soon as he’s sitting, Mary places Sam in Dean’s arms. Sam begins to cry almost immediately. “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ll take care of you,” Dean promises, rocking the chair. Sam stops crying, looking up at Dean. “That’s right, nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m around,” Dean says with a smile. Sam yawns, shutting his eyes and falling asleep in Dean’s arms. 

***

“Angels are indeed watching over you, Dean Winchester.” Zachariah whispers, with an expression that didn’t totally signify good intent. “We are always watching.”

Something evil was brewing and it all revolves around those Winchester boys. Zachariah can see that the love that can only be found between siblings was strong with these two. Too bad for them, they were about to be caught between the crossfires of Heaven and Hell, the kind of fight where brother might turn against brother, husband and wife might find each other on opposing sides and the most loyal of souls become the greatest of traitors.

This moment was a millennia in the making; every breath, every birth and death, every heartbreak and compromise has been planned for this very point in time, for these special little boys. And if he gets it right...who knows, there might be a promotion or two in his future. But that all depended on Castiel. The very name of that foolish angel made him feel nauseous. He fought tooth and nail to get someone a little more competent as Dean’s angel, but the higher ups insisted upon it. Something about the heart of the angel being something Dean would relate to. Either way he doesn’t care, and as long as that little freak didn’t get in his way, it should all go exactly as planned. 

‘Speaking of,’ he thinks to himself. “Where _is_ Castiel?” As if on cue, the angel in question came strolling in, as if he had all the time in the world. 

“Zachariah,” he says.

Zachariah narrows his eyes, wondering once again why on Earth they would pick someone with such an odd disposition as Castiel had. But he knows this was not the time to question it. There are a lot of things they have to set in motion and not a lot of time in which to do it.

“I assume you’ve been briefed on your task.” He waits for Castiel to give him a sign of acknowledgement before continuing. “Good, then you know what’s expected of you. You know the rules, Castiel; go down there, keep him safe, make sure he does exactly what we want him to, all while keeping a close eye on that brother of his. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” Castiel complies, nodding once more. 

“Good. Now I’ll also assume you know about the vessel you need to obtain. His name is Jimmy Novak, he is four years old and his current location is a tiny hospital in Pontiac, Illinois. You have to find him and get his permission to use him as a vessel.” 

“Yes, Zachariah.” 

Zachariah smiles to himself. Hopefully this strange little angel was as good at following orders as he was saying yes. 

“Well Castiel,” he continues. “That's all I have for you today. Keep tuned into angel radio and wait for further instructions.” He turns his back on the other angel. “Oh, and be sure not to let us down.” 

As Castiel walks away, Zachariah turns his attention back to the Winchester boys. Dean is gently stroking his brother’s hair while he sleeps. Their mother sits watching silently, a tiny smile playing on her lips. Little did they know, their world was about to be flipped on its head. Zachariah supposes he should feel bad for them; after all, it is heavens fault that they will never have another normal day in their young lives. He should, but he doesn’t. Compassion and guilt were for the weak, but for Heaven, and the angels who live here, they spoke of nothing but strength.

***

Castiel takes his job very seriously. In fact, there wasn’t a lot he doesn’t take seriously. Everyone knows of the Winchester boys. They were destined for greatness and Castiel was lucky to be the one in charge of one of them. It was a huge honor and Castiel doesn’t want to mess it up. He knows he is a little different than the other angels and this is his chance to prove them wrong. Castiel locates his vessel, speaking to him in a small voice only he can hear.

“Hello Jimmy,” he says. The boy gives no sign of being startled or afraid. Its as if he was expecting this, as of he was certain someone was going to take him away. 

“Are you here to take me to Heaven?” Jimmy asks softly, turning in the direction of where Castiel stands. 

Castiel can’t help but to feel a little pity for the boy, here he was, at the beginning of his life wondering if he was going to be heading to his death. 

“No, Jimmy I’m not,” Castiel replies. “I am here because I need your help.”

Jimmy’s face wrinkles with confusion. “My help?” he asks tilting his head. “What can I help with?” he says. At four years old Jimmy knows he is dying. The nurses think he doesn’t understand it being so young, but he knows his heart is failing. He knows without a transplant he wouldn’t live to see five. At four Jimmy has accepted this fact. He is unsure on how he could ever be a help to someone. 

“You, are something called a vessel. It is what an angel like myself needs in order to walk upon the Earth. Every angel has one specific to them and you just so happen to be mine.” Castiel explains. “You are special in ways you can’t even imagine Jimmy Novak. That’s not something you should ever forget.”

Jimmy ponders over this fact. He had never thought of himself as special. “But I’m dying,” he points out quietly. He couldn’t be too special if he was already failing the angel who needed his body to be here.

Castiel thought about quoting a bible verse to the boy to reassure him but he decided against it. A moment like this called for words that would be easily understood. “I can heal you, make you new. I cannot promise things will be easy, I cannot promise there will not be moments where you will be able to feel everything I can. But I can promise you this Jimmy Novak, I will do everything in my power to treat your body with the respect I would my own. I promise to honor the trust you place in me. And I promise to never forget your act of selflessness not for as long as I exist.”

Jimmy nods. “I’ll do it. Tell me what I have to do,” he says quickly. He would do whatever it takes not to die at the young age of four. Even if that means never seeing his family again. He just didn’t want to die. 

“All you have to do is say yes,” the angel says simply. “I just need your permission.” 

“Yes,” Jimmy says softly, gasping as he feels this warm light wash over him. Castiel heals what is wrong with the boy’s heart. It’s nothing short of a miracle. It was an easy feat, performing the task was as effortless as a human drinking water. But for this boy who had spent his short lifetime with a body that was slowly betraying him, it was everything. 

Even though he was not to be impervious to human emotion, he could not help but to feel something. He doesn’t know how to describe it exactly, but it feels like flying. It feels as if he was lighter than air. He has done good acts in the past, helping those in need. But this time, it feels important, this time it feels as though he has accomplished something real. He watches as the pain and suffering roll off the child’s shoulders, and tears of joy fall from the young boy’s eyes. This is the last act Jimmy Novak will ever perform as the master of his own body. For the first time in Castiel’s long existence, he feels as if he had truly performed a miracle. 

He enters the body, taking in all the new sensations. It was enough to make his head spin but he doesn’t have time to get used to in now, he has a job to do.

Castiel doesn’t think of Jimmy’s parents, or of his sister as he rips out the IVs and pulls off all the wires he’s hooked to. He heals Jimmy’s body again, briefly marvelling over his now human fingers, before popping out of the hospital and reappearing at Dean’s house. 

Castiel knocks on the door, which is soon opened by Mary. “Hello, my name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord. I was sent here to watch after your son,” he greets formally. Mary laughs softly, ushering him inside. 

“Angel of the Lord huh? Well, let’s get you some real clothes, Castiel,” she says, leading him upstairs to what he assumes is Dean’s bedroom. “Good thing you two seem to be the same size,” she says, laying out some clothes for him to pick from. He picks up the black jeans, a blue and white plaid shirt and gets dressed quickly. “Would you like to meet Dean?” Castiel nods, and follows Mary into a nursery. 

“Mommy!” Dean yells, getting up from the floor and running over to Mary. He stops, looking at Castiel. “Who’s this?”

It was like the piano being played, then stopped abruptly till all you had left was sound of the echoing notes, chilling you to your very soul. It was like finding that solitary truth that invalidated everything you have ever known. That’s what meeting someone like Dean Winchester was like. Castiel could now understand why _this_ boy, out of so many, needed protection. He was flawed and young, but he was humanity. Here in this boy was the potential to do great things the world had never seen. Of all the lifetimes Castiel had been privy to, he had never seen anything quite like it. He was curious to see what kind of man Dean would become, if he would fall short from greatness like so many before him, or if he would rise to the occasion and become a beacon for all that it is to be truly human. 

“I am Castiel. I am your angel,” Castiel says slowly. 

Dean wrinkles his nose at Castiel and shakes his head. “I’m gonna call you Cas,” Dean says with a nod, grabbing Cas’ hand. “Come meet Sammy,” he tells him, pulling Cas down on the ground where Sam lies gurgling on a blanket. “Sammy, this is Cas, he’s my angel. Cas, this is my baby brother Sammy.” 

“Hello, Sammy,” Castiel says seriously. Sam blinks up at him, reaching for him. Confused, Castiel tilts his head at the small child. When Sam isn’t given Castiel’s immediate attention, he starts to wail. “What did I do wrong?” Cas asks, looking at Dean with wide eyes. 

“He wants you to hold him,” Dean explains, staring at the strange boy. Cas nods and carefully reaches out to pick Sam up. Dean watches as Castiel holds his baby brother, he can’t help but grin at the pure awe that passes over Cas’ face.

Castiel can’t believe that in all his time observing Earth and watching over the humans, he had never picked up a baby before. It was an entirely new experience, and it was almost too much for him to handle all at once. He could feel his borrowed heart swell as Sam nuzzled closer, deciding that even though there was something inherently non-human about the angel he was still worthy of his trust. 

Castiel’s eyes fill with unmistakable awe. If joy and purity had a scent, that is what Sam would smell like. Castiel supposes Sam would be pretty heavy for a four-year old to carry around like this, but his angelic strength made it feel as if he were holding the lightest of feathers. 

The prickling sensation around his eyes grew more intense as he finally looks up at Dean and his mother. He doesn’t entirely know what it all means but there is one thing he knows for sure. This is what true happiness feels like, this is the feeling humans spend entire lifetimes looking for. He doesn’t think he’d ever feel that, given how he is made. This is a dangerous game he has slipped into, but if the expressions from Dean and Mary are any indication, it is well worth it.

Dean smiles at Cas. “See, you can be his angel too, Cas,” Dean says proudly. Mary watches all of this with a proud smile on her face before turning away to to get back to her sewing. She has spent many years and a tremendous amount of energy keeping the supernatural from her family, but there was something about the odd little angel - something that spoke of great humanity. He may still be awkward, may still be getting used to the nuances of human life, but she has a feeling it won’t stay that way for long.

***

He has had his eye on those Winchesters for the longest time. Every since he met that fiery young thing back in 1972, he has developed what some might call a slight obsession with her and her family. They are important, he can feel it in his soul... if he still had one. The product of the bond between Mary Campbell and John Winchester would be one to rock the history books for a long time, he just knows it. And what was even better was that those rats with wings up in heaven think they can protect those boys with a sub-par angel. 

He would love nothing more than to strip that idiot’s wings feather by feather as slowly and as painfully as he possibly can, then ship that box of feathers right to those pearly gates just to prove a point. But the time for torture and mayhem was not today; he has to stand his ground and wait patiently in the shadows. His time would come, and the angels will suffer. He would make sure of that. 

He stands outside the Winchester’s home, silently watching from the shadows. He could see Mary, as beautiful as ever, yelling at her oldest to wash up for dinner, he could see John, tired from a long day’s work, sipping on a beer and watching the baseball game.

He could see Sammy. 

Sam, the chosen one, the key to making everything possible. That little ball of bouncing fat and bones was his ticket to hell on Earth. He had never seen so much potential, so much raw power and evil as he did in this boy. If he could only slip in and take him now, he would raise him as a true Prince of Hell, as opposed to the weak, sickly, filthy human his parents would bring him up to be. But he couldn’t, and he knew that, but that wouldn’t stop him from having some fun first. 

He slowly walks up to the door, scoffing at the flowers that line the walkway, until he stood at the doorway. His lips pull into a slight smile as he rang the doorbell and waits for Mary to show up like he knew she would. 

Mary mindlessly swings open the door, a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. She is bouncing Sam on her hip and telling Dean that if he didn’t get to the table she would feed his helping of pie to his father. She finally turns her face towards to the open door. Her eyes flicker in brief recognition but she gives no sign that she remembers him. Of course she wouldn’t; he is using a different meat suit after all. But even with a different face, one doesn’t easily forget the imprint of the being that took everything from you.

“Hi, can I help you?” Mary says her smile dulling a bit at the leering smile he was giving her. 

“Yes,” he replies, “I’m here to deliver a message for Mary Winchester.” She nods for him to continue. He raises hand to wipe a piece of food that had stuck to Sam’s face, leans in and whispers in her ear. 

“The angels may be watching over you and your boys, Mrs. Winchester, but never forget, so are we.” As her face begins to pale, and her eyes wider than a dollar coin, he can hardly contain a grin. She could do nothing more than sputter as she watches him walk away and disappear into the night. 

He was known by many names, some of them forgotten, some of them changed, but for John and the boys he would be known by nothing more than the demon that took Mary away. To them, he would be Yellow Eyes.

***  
Dean likes Castiel, even though the angel is the weirdest person that Dean has ever met. It wasn’t like Dean had met a lot of people at the age of four but either way, Cas would still be the weirdest. Dean’s not exactly sure what Castiel is supposed to be protecting him from, but it’s nice having a friend to play with. 

“Dean, I don’t understand. There is nothing there. What is the point of this game?” Castiel complains one day as they play in Dean’s room. 

Dean sighs heavily. “I told you, we’re playing pretend. That’s what pretend is, you gotta use your... imagination,” Dean says struggling over the big word. Castiel sits down next to Dean crossing his arms. 

“This is boring, Dean. Can’t we play something else?” Castiel whines. Lately, Cas has realized he’s becoming more and more like his vessel’s age and less like the Angel of the Lord that he truly is. 

Dean sighs again. He may like Castiel, but he sure is annoying when it comes to playing. “You never like _any_ of the games we play!” Dean points out, getting up off the floor and flopping on the bed. “What is it you want to do?”

Thinking, Castiel tilts his head. Part of him wants to go back to playing pretend, but he just can’t seem to wrap his mind around the concept. He has a hard time pretending that something is there when it’s clearly not. These games makes Dean happy, however although he may look it, he just doesn't have the four year old mind Dean does. Dean has tons of toys that Mary and John have bought for him, but none of them interest Castiel. “I want to read,” Cas decides finally. 

Dean groans. “Reading is so boring, Cas!” Dean whines, pouting. Castiel sighs, Dean is his charge, his responsibility is to make Dean happy... even if that apparently means pretending things are there when they aren’t.

“Okay, we can go back to playing pretend,” Cas says softly. He smiles when Dean jumps out of bed running over to Cas and hugging him tightly. Cas is shocked for a moment before he wraps his arms around Dean, and soaks in the feeling of being loved. 

The boys are so engrossed in playing pretend that they don’t even notice when Dean’s mother comes walking in. 

‘ _Dean and his angel make a lovely scene._ ’ she thinks quietly to herself. She’s never seen Dean so full of joy before. Sure he has had his share of playmates, but there was something slightly different about this one. It was like they understood each other on a level no one could possibly understand. There was a true friendship between these two boys, nothing like she has seen in a very long time. Not since--She pushes the thought out of her mind. That wasn’t something worth remembering now. 

There was no doubt in her mind that Castiel would do anything in his power to protect her son, just like she was sure that if Dean could do the same if he could. 

“Who want’s to help mommy make a pie?” She calls, laughing when Deans tiny body shakes with pure excitement at the word pie. 

“I do, I do!” Dean screams, grabbing the startled angel by the hand and yanking him towards the kitchen. Mary is only seconds behind them but already Dean has taken a handful of flour and is shoving it in Castiel’s face, laughing maniacally as he coughs and sputters. 

“Dean!” he yells, surprising both himself and the boy. He never raises his voice, always speaking as if he lived in a library. 

“Dean,” Mary scolds, tapping Dean on the shoulder. “Say sorry to Cas.” 

Dean looks down, tiny hands twisting behind his back, foot grounding into the ground in shame. “Sorry Castiel.” he whispers, pouting. 

“Good,” Cas responds. “You should be.” He then proceeds to crack an egg on the young boy’s head. Laughing slightly as Dean looks up at him in horror. “Did I do well, Mary?” he asks hopefully. 

“Yes, Cas,” she says shaking her head at the boys. “You did very well.” They spend the rest of the afternoon making apple pies and occasionally throwing food at each other. She knows she going to have hell to pay when John comes home and sees the state of their kitchen but she doesn’t care. Life is messy, might as well have some fun with it. 

She sits the boys at the table, serving them the pie pops she had created alongside the bigger ones. “Now stay here, eat your pie and please, no more throwing food.” She figures she could trust them long enough to go check up on Sammy, and even if she couldn’t she would just threaten them with no pie for the rest of their natural lives. 

Sam is just beginning to wake up, cranky and in need of a good changing. She wraps her youngest in her arms and sits in the rocking chair. She loves these moments with Sam, they were always quiet and sweet. He would coo and she would sing and they could just rock together, a mother and her baby.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,” she sings softly. “Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.”

In these moments it’s just her and Sam against the world, so she doesn’t notice when Castiel quietly slips besides them. 

“You have a lovely voice, Mary,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb them too much. She smiles slightly.

“Thank you, Castiel.” They continue to stay like that for a while, Sammy gurgling, Mary singing, and Cas, watching so still Mary could have sworn he turned into stone. 

“What exactly are you doing here?” she says suddenly. “You never actually told me. What are you here to protect my boys from?” 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Cas says truthfully. “All I know is that it’s my duty to protect you and your family. And even if it wasn’t, I would still do it.” He looks earnestly into her eyes. “Your family means everything to me, I would go to the ends of the Earth for you.” 

She doesn’t doubt that for a second, but it still makes her sad. Castiel’s eyes spoke of infinite wisdom and truth. She was sure he had seen the beginning of time and would be there for the end of it. His eyes, as bright as they were, also spoke of ancient sadness and loneliness. Even though she knew that he had lived longer than she cared to know, the vessel he was inhabiting was so young, and she couldn’t, in good conscious watch someone so young risk it all for her. She couldn’t watch as he carried the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. 

“I know what you are thinking Mary,” he says sadly. “I would prefer it if you didn’t worry about me. This is my job, this is what I was created to do. I know it is hard to see past my vessel, but you are going to have to for this to work. I won’t be this small for long, just like any other child, this vessel with grow with time.”

“I know that,” she begins. “It’s just--”

“Stop,” Castiel says, laying a hand on her shoulders. “I _will_ make sure no harm comes to you, I can promise you that.” She sighs, coinciding.

“Okay Castiel, my life is in your hands.” 

The moment is over and she, Sam and Cas go to the kitchen where they find that Dean has managed to eat _all_ the pie pops in one sitting. As Mary scolds Dean, Sam watches over the scene happily, and Cas tunes into angel radio, as he always does when he has a free moment. Zachariah is telling him to come in for a report as soon as the Winchesters go to sleep. Apparently, they had it on good authority that the next day would be quiet, and the family wouldn’t need much protection. 

Cas frowns, he doesn’t like spending too much time away from his adopted family, but he has to do what he needs to. The frown however, quickly dissipates as Dean begins to yell at Cas for the broken egg shells that could still be found in his hair. 

He has never had anything that belonged solely to him, but these moments, these Winchesters were his and he wouldn’t give them up for anything. 

***

Yellow Eyes didn’t need a calendar to know what day it was. Every demon in the nine circles of Hell knew what was going down today. Amidst all the pain and fury, was an underline ripple of excitement. Today was the day everything was going to be set in motion. Today, little Sammy Winchester was turning 6 months old. Today, that little family in Lawrence, Kansas and subsequently the world, would be shaken to their very foundations. 

And he couldn’t wait. 

It was quiet in the Winchester home. Sam and Dean had been put to bed, Mary was in her room and John was sleeping in front of the T.V. Yellow Eyes wondered briefly where what bumbling idiot Castiel, _“the angel of the lord”_ was, but according to his sources, and he had very good sources, Castiel was indisposed in heaven, giving his report. Too far away to save his precious little charge and his family. 

 

Yellow Eyes has one simple task; bleed into the little brat’s mouth, make him more like them. No more, no less. But this particular demon saw nothing wrong with wreaking havoc if the situation called for it. As long as the other members of the Winchester household stayed out of his way for the night, they’d be safe, if not, well he was never the type to make promises. 

He revels in the fact that he could move right under their noses and they wouldn’t notice a thing. That was the issue with meat suits, so big and clumsy, being defeated by simple things like walls and doors. They were nothing like his true form, able to come and go as he pleased, able to slip into a baby’s nursery without arousing suspicion. 

Sam hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet, Yellow Eyes could hear him happily gurgling from where he stands in the nursery, images of his parents and his brother flashing through his young mind. He almost hates the fact that he is about to disturb the boy. Well, he would, if there was any human left in him to actually care. He makes his way to the crib, taking his sweet time. It is almost as if he is just waiting for someone to come stop him. He is taking a risk and he knows it, but just as the silly human saying went, good things came to those who waited. 

He peers into the crib, picking Sam up and bouncing him a little. 

“Hello Sam.” he whispers. At first Sam coos happily, just enjoying the fact that he was being picked up, but the coos slowly turned into whimpers. Even as a baby Sam could feel pure evil when presented with it. This being wasn’t soft and warm like his mother, not rough yet loving like his brother, not gentle like his father. Even the boy with the blue eyes, with his otherworldly air was nothing compare to the whoever held him now. Yellow Eyes could sense the confusion swirling around Sam and figured it was high time to get on with what he came there for, before the child woke the whole house.

“Shhhh” he soothes. “It’s okay Sammy, you have nothing to fear from me....much.” He places the boy back into his crib, pulling out a knife and slowly dragging it across his skin, watching as the blood pools to the surface. 

“Now, I want you to be a good boy Sammy, because I have a special gift for you. This will make you strong and powerful like nothing the world has ever seen before. You will be able to do things Heaven and Hell have only dreamed possible. You will carry the fate of the world in your tiny fist and you don’t even know it yet.” He raises his wrist above Sam’s mouth, letting droplets of blood fall in.

“You are the key to everything,” he continues. “A king among peasants. Remember that Sammy, remember you are so much greater than they are.” He smiles, brushing the child’s hair from his face. He’s stalling, he knows that. But he can feel her coming closer, feel her panic rock him to his very bones. They had a story, him and Mary, and it was about time it came full circle. 

The door slams open as she rushes inside, he didn’t have to turn around to know who had disturbed him. 

“Stay away!” she yells. “Whoever you are, get away from my son!” A snap of the fingers silences her, and a flick of of the wrist threw her against the ceiling. Her eyes were wide with fear as it dawns on her that she failed. She failed her family and the memory of her parents. As hard as she had tried, she wasn’t able to keep the supernatural from ripping her life apart all over again. 

“Mary, Mary, Mary.” he says, pacing the room, his yellow eyes flashing. “Remember me now?” He looks up, and saw the question in her eyes. “I guess not, no matter, as of right now none of that matters. I told you Mary,” he continues. “I told you, you could never escape us. I want you to know this as you die. Your sons will never be safe. Sam and Dean will _never_ be happy again as long as I am around. Hell, as long as Heaven is still in operation, your precious little boys will never have a moment of peace. They will be hunted down and used for the rest of their natural lives. And you, Mary Winchester, with all your foresight, your caution and your salt, could have never prevented this. This was written in the stars sweetheart, you were just the sad sap that helped it all happen.” 

He watches as the tears flow heavily from her eyes, the truth hitting her harder then anything she could could have possibly imagined. This was her fault, by trying to protect her family she had caused them unbearable pain for years to come. 

Yellow Eyes grins, raising his hand and slicing it through the air. He watches as Mary’s stomach rips open, blood steadily dripping from the wound. In the crib Sam begins to cry. 

“Shush now, Sammy,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “This is just the beginning of your bright future,” he says, snapping his fingers so he appears invisible, save for his flashing eyes. John runs in, rushing to his baby boy trying to calm him down. He looks around the room, in confusion. He thought he heard yelling, but he couldn’t be too sure. But since all seems to be well, he just looks lovingly down at his son, until he just so happens to look up. 

Yellow Eyes revels in the pain and confusion that flashes in John Winchester's eyes. He makes sure John sees his eyes glowing in the darkness before he snaps his fingers once more and Mary screams as she bursts into flames. He wants his eyes to be the stuff of nightmares for John, he wants the color yellow to be a source of anguish for his family. He knows they will never have a moments peace after this day, no happiness, no security. This fact brings a smile to his lips as he quickly exits the house to watch it all unfold elsewhere. 

From a distance, Yellow Eyes watches as Dean runs out holding Sam, John coming in behind them. He continues to grins as the house burns, burning the Winchester’s last chance of happiness with it. As he walks away he laughs, thinking of how much _fun_ he’ll be having with Sammy later. 

“This is it,” He whispers into the darkness. “This is the beginning of the end.”


	2. God Can't Save You Now

Castiel hates giving reports. Honestly, Castiel hates every moment he’s away from Dean. He’s not sure what it is about the young boy, but there is something about him he is unnaturally drawn to. Even though he’s only been with the Winchesters for two months, Castiel knows without a doubt he would fall from grace if Dean asked. In and of itself that statement is huge. All he knows is Heaven, all he has ever needed was his brothers and sisters. Nothing else. But this tiny human, someone who, in the grand scheme of things, is insignificant in the story that was Castiel’s existence, has somehow wormed his way in the angel’s heart. Dean Winchester made him believe in the impossible. He has seen the truth of life and the capabilities of man. He knew exactly what the host of Heaven thought of mankind, And yet, given the choice he would turn his back on it all.

Turn away from the only family and him he has ever known, turn away from his power and his wings. The realization of this simple truth was frightening, yet somehow, at the same time it was strangely liberating. As if for the first time in forever he finally knew where he belonged.

This is the thought that keeps him going, this is the thought that carries him back to his charge. Every time he’s gone away to Heaven, Cas brings back a sweet from another country, something for them to bond over. Today is no exception. Cas pops in front of the Winchester’s house holding a box of bonbons. He looks up, but the house is nearly gone. The box clatters to the floor. 

“Dean?! Dean!” he calls into the house, his heart aching when there is no reply. He runs into the wreckage, his heart breaking in ways he never knew were possible. He crashes from room to room, not caring about the damage that might be done to his tiny vessel. Finally he stops, chest heaving, tiny fists clenched. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, centering himself, and sends out his grace like feelers, touching each and every surface of the house hoping to find someone alive...if they were still alive at this point.

His heart gives a tiny heave when he realizes who died there. He always liked her, that Mary Winchester. She was so nice to him, so kind. She had invited him into her home with open arms despite her hate for all things supernatural. She trusted him with her children and her husband...and he failed her. He failed them all. 

He can feel it when Zachariah appears next to him. His eyes are still closed when he poises his question. “Where are they?!” he demands. In this vessel Castiel can’t do much to physically hurt Zachariah, but that doesn’t stop him from giving the angel a good kick in the shins. He knows it has nothing but dramatic effect, but it still feels good. “Where is Dean?” He’s shocked when Zachariah only laughs, pushing Castiel away.

“Oh Castiel, you poor innocent little angel. This has been planned since the beginning of time. Every single moment has been accounted for. Mary Winchester had to die,” Zachariah says with a grin. It’s all going to plan. It’s unfortunate they couldn’t include Castiel in the makings of it, but he was a liability, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode with emotion and--Zachariah shudders to think--humanity. He would have tried to stop them, tried to make them see it was wrong. But the angel wasn’t capable of seeing the bigger picture. In the grand scheme of things, little humans like Mary Winchester didn’t matter, and he couldn’t wait to tell him that. 

“You’ve done your job--what is it that tiny human calls you?...Cas?” he asks mockingly. “You’ve done your job Cas, leave the heavy lifting to the big boys now.” 

Castiel’s borrowed face flashes with anger and hurt. “How could this be part of the plan, Zachariah? Since when did we sacrifice humans for the greater good?”

Zachariah was starting to get tired of this game; clearly they had misjudged Castiel as a simple “yes” man. “When have we not Castiel? Read the bible lately? Remember Jesus? All we _do_ is sacrifice humanity for the greater good! And it’s high time you learned that.” Zachariah watches as the angel bends over and picks up a still smoldering teddy bear. It had been Dean’s, but Sam had the habit of adopting things that weren’t up for adoption. He put out the tiny flames with his fingers, letting the memories of the boys who loved this bear most flow through him. If Castiel was the crying sort, he wouldn’t be surprised if a few tears fell from his vessel's eyes. 

“So what do we do now?” He asks, voice breaking. 

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything, this is none of your concern now. Go back to Heaven where you belong.”

“But Dean -” the angel begins.

“Is none of your concern, Castiel.” Zachariah places a hand on his subordinate's shoulder in mock comfort. “Look, we’ll keep them safe, don’t worry about that. There are members of the host keeping a close eye on them as we speak.” Castiel eyes Zachariah with contempt, but says nothing. 

“We just had to get them to this point. From here on in, it’ll be smooth sailing for John and the boys.” Zachariah spends a few more minutes assuring the angel before firmly sending him on his way. He walks through the damage, not caring that he is treading on family photos, and beloved toys. When he gets to what he can only assume is the middle of the house (he really can’t tell, given the charred remains), he smiles slightly at the destruction. What he didn’t tell Cas was that it was only smooth sailing for about 5 seconds, and after that there would be beatings, starvation, alcoholism and heavy training. He didn’t tell Cas that he would never see those boys again, not if Zachariah had anything to do with it. He didn’t tell Cas that Sam would have to die, and that Dean would have to sell his very soul in order to save him. 

As Zachariah blinks away, off to bark some orders at some poor unsuspecting soul, he thinks upon the last thing he didn’t tell Cas: that he left a greater bullseye on the back of the eldest Winchester. Every supernatural being for miles would want to know what made him so special, an angel would risk everything for. No, that piece of information he would keep to himself for a while. 

 

***

The day after the fire, Dean waits up all day and night for Castiel. He doesn’t understand - Cas was his friend, his protector... didn’t that mean protecting the ones Dean loved as well? Dean is angry, and his whole body shakes with rage. Castiel was supposed to be there. He was supposed to protect Dean’s family. He thinks of all the stuff that had burned inside the house and frowns. Pictures, drawings, toys he and Cas played with are all burned now. He can’t help but feel a little sad. Castiel didn’t protect them when he was supposed to. Dean never wanted to see Cas again. He hopes that wherever the angel is, he never forgets the family he betrayed. 

***

For the first time, Castiel hates being an angel. He hates having this responsibility, and this guilt. He’s broken, he knows this. Angels weren’t meant to feel anything, they were warriors of God and that was it. But now Cas feels like he is more than that. More than the cookie cutter ‘Angel of the Lord’ status he lives with. This fact breaks him. How can he go back to being one of many when he knows what its like to be special? To be wanted and adored. To have someone need you, not just because you were useful to them, but because you mattered. He needs to be alone so he goes to his favorite spot in Heaven and just sits there, staring up at the sky. He misses Dean. He aches to be with him, to comfort him, to apologize for not being there to protect Mary. He had failed them in more ways than one. If Angels could cry, Castiel has no doubt that he would be sobbing right now. He doesn’t understand how he’s just supposed to stop caring about the Winchester family, doesn’t understand why they are not of Heaven’s concern anymore. For the first time, he feels that Heaven is corrupt. Something his Father should have never allowed. He will watch Dean, from afar, no matter what Zachariah says, even if being so close yet so far away breaks him even more.

 

***

_10 Years Later_

Yellow Eyes isn’t one to keep promises, but the one he made to Mary, the one where he told her he would hunt her kids down to the ends of the Earth, that was a promise he would keep wholeheartedly. But the word “hunt” implied that he put any real effort into the search. Finding the Winchesters is as easy as breathing in air, and it helps that he has the new member of his gang, Ruby following them around like the good little lap dog she was. 

Every so often he pays the boys a visit: sometimes as their teacher, or the random guy walking his dog. One time he decides to have a little fun and possess dear old daddy, not that he was sober enough to care...or notice. And at the end of the day, he sneaks into whatever hellhole they call home for the week and slip Sammy some demon juice. He’s in and out before anyone could dream of noticing and the next day, he has Ruby fill his young, malleable head with lies and rage. 

That kid is a good enough actor he could fool the devil himself. He pretends to be calm and collected, he pretends to be normal and carefree, but if you look hard enough, you could sense something was off about him. There was something boiling beneath the surface, and it is his job (and Ruby’s) to feed that flame. 

Today he has something special planned. Today he is going to push Sam to the limits, and enjoy every step of the way. This time, John Winchester dragged his boys to God-knows-where, Minnesota. Sammy is just beginning to realize just how different he is. He spends hours scrubbing his hands or cleaning himself up as if he is trying to rid himself of something. 

“That’s the demon blood, singing through your veins, Sammy!” Yellow Eyes would say happily every time he happened to catch Sam in the act. “It’s that itch you just can’t scratch, and it’s never going away.” 

He was sick of playing it safe with this kid, watching everything boil underneath the surface. It was time to flip the switch, time to unleash the monster that was Samuel Winchester. He may have to resort to juvenile human tricks to do it, but the end result would be just as sweet. 

This time he was taking over the body of the local bully, Joshua Winslow, an obnoxious little boy with bad teeth and a temper to boot. From the moment they met each other, Joshua and Sam were at odds, so it wouldn’t take much for Sam to completely lose his head. 

It was recess, the other kids were laughing and playing and generally carrying on, but Sam wasn’t. He was sitting on the swings, not making eye contact with anyone, just staring at his unlaced shoes as if they would magically tie themselves. Yellow Eyes walked up to the boy, getting into his personal space. 

The Winchester boy didn’t even bother to look up, he just sighed, as though the mere acknowledgement of the other boy was too much effort. “What do you want, Josh?”

“Nothing, Winchester, can’t I just come over to say hi?” Yellow Eyes sat in the swing next to him. “You know, it must be hard being such a freak.” Sam’s eyes snapped up, narrowing at the words. 

“I’m not a--” 

“It’s okay Sam, it’s not like you had a choice. I mean, look at your freaky family. Your drunk of a dad, your idiot of an older brother....even your mother...” His voice trailed off. He was starting to strike a chord. Sam’s knuckles were whitening as they clenched harder on the chains of the swings.

“You don’t know anything--”

“How does it feel knowing that you killed her?” Yellow Eyes continued. The look of fear and shock flashed through Sam’s eyes as he tried to figure out how he could have possibly known that. “Yup, Sammy boy, I know. I know how your stupid mother died in your nursery, I know that she burned to a crisp on the ceiling. Do you think it hurt, Sammy, do you think she cried as she burned, stuck to the ceiling, unable to move, to scream? I think it must have been so very painful.” 

Sam stood up, hands shaking, eyes wild. Those big hazel eyes, so innocent, couldn’t help but to flash with fury. Yellow Eyes wouldn’t be surprised if this wasn’t the first time Sam was blamed for his mother’s death. Even though John was well aware that all his baby boy could do was sit and watch, alcohol sometimes made you think irrational things. 

“ _That’s it Sammy,_ ” Yellow Eyes was now worming his way into the boy’s mind, calling him to action, taking him over the point of no return. “ _That’s it. Get angry, get mad. Show this fat piece of lard what a true freak is capable of._ ”

“Do you think she’d ever forgive you,” He continued, picking up momentum. “Do you think she’d be proud? Her bouncing baby boy became a freak! An abomination, unclean....do you think she’d even still love you?” Tears were now flowing heavily from the Sam’s face, the demon was messing with the kid’s mind and he knew it, now he just needed to get the boy violent. 

“Shut up Josh!” Sam screams. “You don’t...you have know idea what you’re talking about!” 

“ _Come on Sammy!_ ” Yellow Eyes whispers into his mind. “ _Hit him, get angry, you freak, you nothing. Your mother left you Sam, your dad doesn’t care. You think they love you? Do you really think they understand?_ ” 

Sam’s hands flew to his head, shaking it, trying to get the voices to go away. “Stop it!” He cried. “Leave me alone...please just leave me alone.” 

“ _Sorry kiddo,_ ” Yellow Eyes says. “ _Not today._ ”

“You don’t think anyone else can tell, Sam?” Joshua screams at him. “That there is something wrong with you? That you aren’t like the rest of us? Stop kidding yourself Sam, stop pretending like you have it all together, we both know you don’t, we both know what you are truly capable of.”

Sam couldn’t take much more of the taunts, Yellow Eyes could see that. He was at his breaking point, at the mercy of the demon’s words. 

“ _Come on Sam do it! Hurt him like he hurt you, do it!_ ”

“No! Stop. I won’t...I won’t hurt him!”

“ _Do it Sam!_ ” 

“No! Just leave, please God just leave me alone.” 

“ _Do it_ ”

“No!” 

“ _Do it!_ ” In a fit of rage Sam throws himself at the boy, punching any exposed part with his fists, over and over again. There was no stopping him. He was screaming nonsensical words of pain and anguish, anything the block out the voices in his head. 

Yellow Eyes makes a quick exit out of the Joshua boy, and watches from a safe distance as it takes three fairly large teachers to pry Sam from his recently vacated vessel. From what he could see, Sam nearly beat the boy to death. It would take a lot of hospitalization and a few good therapists to return the boy back to normal, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that Sam gave in to the instinct. The change from human to slightly less was well on its course and there was no going back. Yellow Eyes watches as John picks up his normally docile younger child, he watches as they pack up and skip town never to be heard from in this part of Missouri again. He watches as Sam looks into the motel bathroom mirror, clearly disgusted with what he sees. He watches as Sam then proceeds to punch said mirror until his tiny fist was unrecognizable. He watches as Sam prays over and over again to God begging to be saved, begging to be normal. 

As the boy slowly falls asleep, Yellow Eyes feels that it is his duty to impart some wisdom onto the boy. 

“ _Oh Sam,_ ” he whispers into the boy’s mind. “ _Even God can’t save you now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful writing partner Garyne. Thank you to our wonderful betas Grace and Megan.


	3. The End is Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of year again, time for birthdays, death and betrayals. As things change for the Winchesters and Castiel the angel, one question remains. Are they flying? Or are they falling?

_4 years later_

 

There would be no cards, no presents, no happily singing loved ones. Just him, the open road and his tunes. He does this every year, he takes off without warning only to come back, somewhat in one piece, slightly drunk and completely unsatisfied. And this year was no different. 

He couldn’t take his father’s blank stares, only sober enough to put a gun in his hands and a knife in his pocket, nor could he take Sammy, who always looked at him with pity, ashamed he could do no better than give him whatever was cheapest at the drugstore they passed the night before. 

And he couldn’t take the fact, that this year, just like all the years before, Castiel had refused to show his face. Sometimes he wonders if the angel was even real, or if Cas was just a figment of his overly excited imagination. But when his father was in the mood to acknowledge his oldest son, he would confirm the existence of an odd four year old boy, who spent more time in his house than he did. 

“He was supposed to protect us,” he grumbles to himself, pulling over to the side of the road. So what if he was bitter? He had every right to be. Everything was taken from him that night, his mom, his home, his best friend. He felt betrayed, he was heartbroken and it was all because of that dick, _Castiel_ the Angel of the fucking Lord. You don’t just come back from that shit, you can’t just pick up the pieces of a broken and empty life. 

He could feel it all bubbling up again, threatening to take him over. _This_ is why he doesn’t do feelings. _This_ is why he left the chick flick moments to the people who spent all day bitching and moaning about their poor sad lives. 

He grabs the bottle of bourbon he may or may not have stolen from the liquor store a few miles back and angrily gets out of his car. Taking a couple of swigs, he finds a nice patch of dirt to sit in before throwing himself onto the ground. The dirt is soft and slightly damp, perfect for mindless drawings.

Dean was full of shit, he knew that. Hell. a lot of people knew that. As much as he pretends not to, he cares about his brother who, was frankly beginning to scare him, and he cares that he just got expelled from the third school in three years. And, if the drawing was any indication, he cares that it’s his birthday and no one bothers to acknowledge it. 

In the dirt he draws himself a small cake with nineteen candles. He hates cake with a burning passion, but on birthdays he’d give an exception. In his mind it is chocolate, with chocolate mousse filling and chocolate frosting. Yeah it was a tremendous amount of chocolate, but Dean Winchester isn’t the kind of guy who does things half assed. He swipes the cake away with his foot, pretending he is blowing out the candles. 

“Happy birthday Dean Winchester,” he says to no one in particular. “Happy birthday.”

Sometime later Dean wakes up, hungover as hell and annoyed at the persistent sound of his phone going off. He grabs it, ready to tear the person on the other end to shreds for bothering him. One glance tells him it’s Sammy, and suddenly he is sober, alert and slightly scared. 

“D-Dean, I....Dean I don’t know what to do, I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t I mean I didn’t...” Sam says quickly, his words forming together. 

“Sam. Sammy! Speak slower, what’s wrong?” It seems as though his brother is trying to tell him something, but due to the excessive crying, Dean can’t make out a word. 

“Dean...Dean, it’s Dad. I can’t---Oh my God I didn’t mean to Dean. I swear I didn’t. I---oh God, it was the voices Dean, they told me---I tried to stop---but he got in the way and it went off. Dean, please I need your help, I don’t know what to do. I---Dean.”

“Sam, I’m going to need to you calm down, and tell me slowly. Okay Sam? Okay? Whatever it is we can get through it together okay? So take a deep breath and start again.”

“I’m so sorry Dean,” Sam whispers, voice shaking like a leaf. “I’m so so sorry.”

Dean tries to pump him for more information but all Sam can do is apologize, over and over again. He jumps into his car, speeding off and breaking every driving law known to man. When he finally reaches the motel they’ve been staying at, he runs inside. And once he gets there, it takes everything within him not to fall to his knees and weep. 

Sam is in the middle of the room, cell phone clutched in one hand, a gun in the other. He’s covered in blood, tears and snot is dripping from his face. 

“I’m sorry.” he says “I’m so so sorry.” Their father is laying at his feet, with what looks like several gunshots to the head. 

“Sam,” Dean says in disbelief. “What did you _do_? 

“I’m sorry,” Sam says again. “I’m so sorry. It was him...the one--The one with the yellow eyes. He told me---He made me do it. Dean, I’m sorry.” 

Dean could do nothing more than to stare at his little brother, who had clearly lost his mind. It was true, they had been searching for Yellow Eyes for as long as he could remember - but telling his brother to do things, making him kill his dad, that was different kind of crazy he was not prepared to deal with. 

“Dean....” Sam cries, sniffling. It knocks Dean out of his daze. He needs to act and fast, there was no telling who had heard the gunshots. 

“Sam, go clean up,” Dean commands, grabbing the comforter off the bed and laying it on the ground next to his father. 

“But Dean I....” Sam starts to argue until Dean looks up, glaring. Sam nods, putting both the gun and phone down and turning to the bathroom.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, placing John on the comforter and rolling him up in it. He opens the motel door, looking around quickly before slinging John on his back and placing him in the back seat of the Impala. “Sam, hurry up,” he calls. He sighs, packing up their things quickly and throwing them into the truck of the Impala. 

They needed to get somewhere safe as soon as possible, and he knew just the place to go. It was nearing noon when the pulled up to the salvage yard. Bobby was sitting on the porch drinking a beer. The excitement was visible on his face when he saw the Impala pull up, but it quickly fell as soon as Sam and Dean stepped out of the car and he saw their faces. 

“What’s wrong boys? And where’s your dad?” he asks, lifting his baseball cap a bit to scratch his head before fitting it back into place. 

“Sam get inside.” Dean says.

“But--”

“Get inside, Sam!” Dean yells, banging his fist against the hood of his car. Sam grabs his bag and scrambles inside. 

“What the hell has gotten into you, boy?” Bobby says, slightly startled. Dean doesn't say a word. He goes to the back of the car, opens the door and gestures inside. 

“Take a look for yourself.” he says. Bobby rushes to the car, takes one look and slams the door shut. 

“What the hell is going on here Dean? Why is your father covered in a sheet in the backseat of his own damn car?”

“I’ll tell you after we bury him.” Dean says, walking away to find a shovel.

“Dean---”

“After we fucking bury him, Bobby!” Dean screams. He picks up the nearest crowbar off the ground and starts going to town on a junk car. It was almost therapeutic. Every swing stood for something that had gone wrong in his short life. And man did it feel good. 

_Wham._ This was for him. _Wham._ This was for his baby brother. _Wham, wham, wham._ This was for his mom and dad. _Wham, wham._ This was for Cas. He keeps hitting the car until his hands begin to bleed, and only then does Bobby even considers venturing in and stopping him. 

“Put it down before you hurt yourself boy,” he says gently. 

“What is the point Bobby? I’ve lost everything... _everything_. And now Sam...I--” his voice gets trapped in throat as he begins to cry. He had been trying to keep it all together, trying to stay strong. But there was no one to keep up the pretense for. 

Bobby, who is not used to holding many people, wraps the boy in his arms and pats him on the back.

He doesn’t say anything, now is not the time for words. Besides, even if he knew what to say, Dean would brush them away like he did everything else. Right on cue, Dean pushes him away, grabs a shovel and walks off. 

“We should get started before the body begins to stink up the car.” he says, his voice cold, void of any emotion or feeling. Bobby watches him walk away, sadness gripping his heart. Dean was a good boy, a smart boy. Before this day, Bobby would have said that Dean had the world at his fingers, if only he reached out and grabbed it. 

But now, it seems like there was no hope left in the boy. Someone who should have been at the prime of his life now walks around like his life was over, and Bobby doesn’t know if there was any fixing that. 

Several hours later, Bobby joins Dean at the doorway of what was unofficially Sam’s room.

“What are we going to do about him?” Bobby says gruffly. 

“I don’t know, I really don’t. I mean voices Bobby? You don’t get any crazier than that.”

“So you don’t believe him?” Bobby answers. “You don’t think it’s Yellow Eyes making him do this?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Dean says with a small sigh. “He can’t stay here, Bobby. He’s...I don’t even know what he is anymore.” 

“We don’t have many options here, Dean,” Bobby points out.

“I know. But I think we both know what we have to do.” Bobby nods. Dean gives his sleeping brother one last look before walking away and heading towards his own room. He sits on the bed, head in his hands, utterly defeated. He doesn’t even have the strength or the will to cry. He just feels empty, and broken and in need of a long, long nap. 

Out of nowhere he hears a rustle. At first he ignores it, after all Bobby’s home was pretty old, and was in the habit of making odd noises. But then it comes again, much louder this time - and if he isn’t mistaken it sounds vaguely like wings. He jumps out of bed, gun at the ready, prepared to shoot first and ask questions later. Right where he was sitting is a box, it’s small and white. There are no words on it, no markings, nothing to suggest where it came from. Scratching his head in confusion, he opens the lid gingerly, just incase something decided to pop out and attack him. But he finds nothing of the sort. Inside he finds a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and if he isn’t mistaken, the filling should be chocolate mousse. 

His heart constricts as he reads the words on top of the cake.

 _‘Happy Birthday Dean,’_ it says _‘Happy birthday.’_

*** 

The next day, Dean and Bobby sit Sam down in front the fireplace. It has been several minutes but no one has said anything yet. Dean was a bit jumpy, his hands were shaking and his legs were twitching. Sam and Bobby were sending Dean identical ‘what the fuck’ faces but he ignored them both in favor of staying in his own headspace. 

So he had eaten the entire cake last night. So he was so high off of the sugar he was ready to bounce of the walls. 

What he did and what he ate was nobody’s business but his own. It doesn’t help that he has a sinking feeling as to who the cake is from. It doesn’t help that for the first time in years he has hope. It doesn’t help that he stayed up all night praying to a fucking angel who didn’t give two shits about him. It doesn’t help, that this is the way one lousy cake made him feel. 

And to make matters worse everyone was looking at him as if _he_ was the one losing his mind. 

“You okay Dean?” Bobby asks, giving him yet another look. “You look...wired.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he says brushing off the question. “But this isn’t about me, this is about Sam.” 

Upon hearing his name, Sam looks away eyes, welling up with tears. “W-What are you guys gonna do?” he asks, his voice wavering. 

Sitting down next to Sam, Dean places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, hoping to comfort him. He sighs. “Sam, Bobby and I talked last night, and we think it’s for the best if you got some help.” 

“How? He’s in my mind, Dean! He’s always there, h-he tells me to do things,” Sam whispers fearfully, looking around the room. 

“Sammy, we’re taking you to a hospital, okay? They can help you get better,” Dean promises, standing back up. 

“You don’t believe me. You think I’m insane. After everything we’ve seen Dean, you won’t believe your own brother?” Sam asks, standing up. “I’m not crazy! He’s there, in my mind, telling me what to do!” 

“I know, Sammy, I know. We’ll get him out of there okay? The hospital will help you, he won’t be able to hurt you anymore,” Dean soothes, wrapping Sam in a hug. “They’ll help you get better, I promise.” 

“O-okay,” Sam whimpers. Dean nods, letting go of Sam. He had expected more of a fight. As they gather up Sam’s belongings guilt seeps into Dean’s veins. He’s supposed to be the one to protect Sam, and now instead he’s sending him away. 

Bobby pulls Dean away as Sam is getting into the car.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he says in a hushed tone. “Let’s say he’s telling the truth, let’s say this Yellow Eyes really has your brother’s gourd in a knot. Why are we sending him off to possibly terrorize unsuspecting people? Shouldn’t we keep him here, with us?”

“Bobby,” Dean sighs. “He killed his own dad. What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t even know where to begin. If this is real, if Yellow Eyes has really taken over my brother, then what better place to send him then somewhere locked and secure? At least until I figure out how to get the bastard out of my brother’s head. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to let him out of my sight for a single moment. But until I can figure this out I don’t need him trying to kill me in my sleep.”

Bobby raises his hands in defeat. “Okay Dean, he’s your brother. It’s your call. But I think it would be best if he stayed right where he is.” 

Bobby walks away, leaving Dean to wonder if he made the right choice. He shakes his head, he can’t worry about that right now, he has so little family left and he needs to protect that. Even if he has to protect them from themselves. 

***

Castiel has taken to making small excursions to Earth when he thought that no one would notice. Over the past fourteen years, he had been sneaking down, just to see how Sam and Dean were doing. Under no circumstance would he allow himself to intervene in any way. And it was killing him. Something was terribly wrong and he knew it. He just couldn’t understand why Heaven had allowed a demon to warp the mind of an innocent fourteen year old boy. But every time he questioned it, every time he made any sign that he thought it was wrong, he would get shut down and punished. 

He doesn’t know how many more of these punishments he could take. As strong and as resilient as he was, they were beginning to wear him down and crush what little spirit he had left. He was straddling a dangerous line. With every passing moment his thoughts grow more and more rebellious. They veer towards serving man and humanity and turning his back on his own kind. He doesn’t know how long he can continue faking his loyalties until he is caught. He knows his brothers and sisters aren’t stupid, he knows it will come to a point where they will no longer hide the fact that they can see just how far he has fallen. He knows that, but right now, in this moment he can’t find it within himself to care. 

Castiel prepares himself for flight, thinking sadly that he never got the chance to show Dean the freedom of flying. But something stops him in his tracks: a message is coming through over angel radio for him. An angel by the name of Tabris is requesting to see him. And by the sounds of it, it looks serious. 

Cas doesn’t want to delay his visit to Earth for very long, but if there is one thing he has learned, it was how to keep up appearances. 

He has heard of Tabris before, but given the nature of his job, no one has much use for him or sees him much for that matter. Castiel has to travel to an obscure part of Heaven just to find him and when he does, he knows it doesn’t bode well for him. He stops briefly at the threshold, he really doesn’t want to deal with this. But he finds he has no other choice, besides Tabris has already sensed his presence. 

“Come in, Castiel,” Tabris beckons. The room is small and dark, books lining the walls and floors. In the middle of the mess of literature sits Tabris, hands folded and face weary. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks. Castiel tilts his head slightly in confusion. Of course he does, no matter how obscure, every angel and their purpose is known to all.

“You are Tabris,” he responds slowly, not sure if this is a test or if Tabris really doesn’t think he knows. “the Angel of Free Will.”

“Good. And since you know who I am and what I do, I imagine you know why you are here.” Tabris says.

“I am not really sure--” 

“Free will Castiel, you are here because you are expressing your free will. Did you not think no one else would notice? DId you think you would be able to get away with it for long?”

Castiel opts to say nothing, he will neither confirm nor deny the angel’s statements. The longer he doesn’t say anything, the longer he can remain safe. 

“Do you know why we were created, Castiel?” Tabris continues. “We were created as God’s warriors, the keepers of His word. We were made to serve Him and carry out His will, not fraternize with the humans he created.” 

Cas knows he is going to regret this, but he can no longer sit by as yet another angel chastises him for his love of humanity. 

“Why not?” he asks. “They are God’s children as we are, shouldn’t we protect them as we would protect each other?”

“There is a difference between protection and and becoming one of them!” The angel snaps. “Castiel, do you not realize what is at stake here? Your family, your home, your grace! Are you really willing to throw it all away for a couple of humans you’ve only knew for two months? And if you still choose to fall for them do you think Heaven will ever leave you alone? You will be hunted for the rest of your life. You will be dragged back to Heaven and killed.” He bangs his fist on the table. 

“Do you want to be known for that? The only angel stupid enough to risk it all for humanity? When we are so much better, so much stronger, when we have so much more to offer?”  
Cas wasn’t about to explain himself to someone who clearly didn’t understand. He wasn’t going to give this angel the satisfaction of being privy to the changes Castiel has gone through. So he gave him a simple answer. “Yes, yes I will.”

Tabris looks at him as if he has never seen anything quite like him, he opens and closes his mouth several times before responding.

“You know I was like you,” he says looking sadly into the distance. “The first thing you learn about emotion is that it has its price. There will always be a price, Castiel, and for us, the Host of Heaven, it is a steep one.” 

“You call yourself the Angel of Free Will.” Castiel says, voice shaking. “Well, where is mine? How can you possibly say you have been where I am and want me to turn my back on it? How could you have felt what I have and tell me to forget it? There is so much out there, so much we don’t understand! We have been here since the beginning of time yet the humans, the so called weak ones, understand the world better than we do! I found something on Earth Tabris, I found a purpose, a calling. I found something worth existing for. I am not about to turn my back on that now. I can’t” 

Castiel turns on his heel, prepared to walk out the door but the other angel’s voice stops him.  
“I understand better than you think, young angel. Why do you think I became the Angel of Free Will? Why do you think I reside in this remote part of heaven? It’s because we don’t need it, we are better off without it. Free will is your prized rose, more beautiful and more fragrant than you have ever known. But underneath those petals of ruby red are thorns ready to poison you as soon as you slip up. I am your first and only warning Castiel. I am what you do not want to be. I was poisoned by that rose and I barely escaped with my life. You will not be that lucky.”

Cas runs out of the room, no longer willing to listen to what the angel had to say. Tabris might have a point, free will was a rose. But in his mind even if he got stuck by the thorns, the simple fact that he was able to smell its sweet fragrance was enough for him. 

‘This is it,’ he thinks to himself, preparing for his descent to Earth. ‘There is no turning back from this point.’ 

As much as he is willing to risk everything for the family he adopted back on Earth, he can’t help but to feel a little sad as he falls from Heaven in more ways than one.

*** 

_“He abandoned you Sammy.”_ Yellow Eyes whispers. _”He left you here to rot while he hit the road doing God knows what.”_

It’s sad, these days Sam doesn’t even argue anymore. He just sits there, staring at the blank walls, letting Yellow Eyes fuel the fire. Some days he doesn’t blame his older brother for what happened, some days he knows that Dean had every right to dump him in the hell hole. But there are other days when just the thought of his brother would enrage him. 

At first it was the small things, exploding light bulbs and broken windows. But then it became bigger, more destructive. He would shoot a glare at an unsuspecting passerby and they would collapse in pain. Sam doesn’t really take any joy from the pain he causes, but he can’t seem to stop. 

He’s lost count of how many days he’s been in the hospital, he no longer flinches when he hears Yellow Eyes in his head, he accepts it. Yellow Eyes never leaves his mind. Some days Sam finds he doesn’t mind it. 

_”It’s time to try a little experiment Sammy,”_ Yellow Eyes tells him one morning. _“I want you to set the dresser on fire.”_

Sam sits up, staring at the dresser. Yellow Eyes says that these are tests to see how ready he is. He’s not entirely sure what he’s getting ready for, but so far Sam has passed each test he’s been given. He doesn’t know if he should be scared or happy. 

Sam jumps back a little when the dresser catches on fire. He’s shocked at how easy it was to make it happen. His mind is growing stronger with each day and each new test Yellow Eyes gives him. 

_”Perfect Sammy. You’re getting strong.”_ Yellow Eyes says proudly. Sammy grins. It’s nice to make someone happy for a change. Dean was only scared of him, his dad never got him. Maybe that’s why he’s stopped caring that he killed his father. It’s not like he was a good dad anyways. He deserved to die, Dean would see that one day. 

“Sam, it’s time for your medication,” his nurse, Ruby, says coming into his room. Sam knows how to avoid taking pills now, it’s easy to hid them under his tongue and spit them out once the nurse has left. Sam sighs getting up and flushing the pills down the toilet. 

_“Sammy, you’re almost ready.”_ Yellow Eyes whispers into his mind. 

“Tell me what to do,” Sam calls out, staring at himself in the mirror. He jumps back when his eyes flick yellow. 

_”Kill your nurse,”_ Yellow Eyes commands. Sam waits, expecting some other command, but none comes. When he looks in the mirror again, his eyes are back to hazel. 

With his task in mind, Sam lies down on the bed, waiting for it to be time for lunch. Normally he would have to participate in groups and pointless therapy, but after he bit a couple kids, they considered him too violent to be around people. He’s still violent, just from a distance. He laughs softly to himself. Humans were such idiots sometimes. 

Sam doesn’t consider himself to be human anymore. He didn’t really know what he was, but he certainly wasn’t weak like everyone else. He was better, smarter, stronger. He could do things people only dreamed about doing. 

Ruby knocks on the door, bringing in Sam’s lunch. She sets it down on the tray and stares at Sam. “Time for you to eat, kid,” she says. Sam sits up grinning at her. 

_”That’s it, Sammy. Kill her.”_

Sam closes his eyes, focusing on the image of Ruby standing there in confusion. She was stupid too, thinking Sam wouldn’t recognize that she was a demon. There’s a loud cough, and when Sam opens his eyes, Ruby is coughing up blood. It won’t kill her, but Sam knows it’s probably not pleasant. 

“What are you doing, you twerp?” Ruby yells, coughing up more blood. Sam raises his hand and makes a fist, watching as Ruby’s airflow is cut off so she cannot speak. 

“You’re an idiot,” he tells her, his eyes flashing yellow again. “I knew you were a demon from the moment I got here,” he says with a laugh, getting up and walking around her. Using his mind he pins her against the wall, and begins to pull Ruby out of the woman she possesses. The black smoke floats around the room and Sam grins, watching the body slide to the floor, dead. “See ya Ruby,” he shouts, watching as the black smoke bursts into flames. 

_”You’re ready,”_ Yellow Eye tells him, and Sam laughs. He is more than ready. This is the beginning of a brand new world. One that Sam would rule, one that would worship him if they wanted to live. He walks out of the hospital, killing anyone who attempts to stop him. He hears the screams and feels the pain of everyone he passes and it fuels him. 

‘They should be scared,’ he thinks. He laughs as security actually tries to stop him. A quick flick of the wrist should do the job, but Sam is not letting them go that easy. He twists their insides so the bleed to death from the inside. It is slow and painful, but everyone is going to die someday, and today just so happens to be their day. Once he’s out, he turns and snaps his fingers, watching as the whole building burst into flames. 

It makes a pretty picture, the flames of orange and red with black seeping into the sky like smoky ink. He thinks briefly of the brother who abandoned him the moment he found out his precious little brother was a freak. Dean would live to regret that. If there was one thing Sam would do, it was to make Dean suffer for letting him go when he needed him the most. 

He pushes the thought of his older brother from his mind, opting to laugh again. A sick, sort of maniacal sort of laugh. He walks away, with the fire still burning behind him. In his mind he can hear Yellow Eyes humming a tune Sam hasn’t heard before. It sounds old and ominous, fitting for the momentous occasion. It isn’t long before Sam starts singing along.

“My name is Death,” he sings, eyes flickering to their now permanent shade of sickening yellow. “And the end is here,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful lovely writing partner.   
> Thanks to our beautiful betas Grace and Megan :)


	4. Hunters and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things must get worse before they get better, it's a lesson the boys know well. But how much can their heavy hearts carry this time?

These days guilt hangs over him like his own personal cloud. It’s not something he can walk away from or tuck away for another day. It’s a constant companion, a reminder of the mistakes that he’s made, the choices that lead him to this specific point in time. Dean hates that he had to leave his brother behind so quickly. He hates the fact that he can’t make any time to visit him. Demon activity has risen to a point where it’s almost too much for Bobby and Dean to handle. In between cases, Dean’s been hard at work trying to find some cure for Sammy, but he can’t find anything concrete on Yellow Eyes. Not that he honestly expected to, the demon has had so many names it unclear which ones are the real Yellow Eyes and which ones are just evil motherfuckers. 

With every new book he reads, the more hope he loses. He blames himself for the entire mess Sammy’s currently in. If he had paid more attention, if he had spent less time being an ass and more time being the kind of person Sammy could lean on, this wouldn’t have happened. He can’t believe that he had been so blind, so unaware of the fact that his baby brother had been changing right before his very eyes.

He always thought it was a phase Sam was going through, the irritability and bursts of violence. Hell, Dean himself has gotten in so many fights over the years he couldn't keep count anymore. Given the way he and his brother grew up, Dean’s a little surprised they aren’t more messed up in the head. But this...this was worse than he could possibly imagine, he could take crazy any day over this ‘ _demons tell me what to do_ ’ crap.

He was using it as an excuse...the whole “busy” thing. He knows that for his brother he would drop anything to go see him, no matter how many demonic bitches were on his ass. But he can’t look Sam in the eye. Not only because of the guilt, but because he is afraid, more afraid then he has ever been in his life. 

The day he dropped Sam off, the last time they saw each other. Sam had been quiet, withdrawn. That was understandable, after killing your father and having your brother drive you to a mental institute, he’d be on the quiet side too. He checked Sam in, and walked him to his new room, watching as his baby brother sadly took in his surroundings. 

He could see the tears welling in his brothers eyes as he failed to keep it together, as the immensity of the moment finally hit him. And then he watched as the tears dried up, the sad eyes filled with hate, and those innocent hazel eyes, the eyes that used to look at him with so much love, change to cold and sickly yellow. 

So yeah, Dean is scared shitless. He’s afraid of what he might find in his brother’s eyes the next time he sees him. He’s afraid that Sam is too far gone to save, that his brother became the very thing he was taught to destroy. 

But Bobby calls with a possible solution and he can’t avoid his brother any longer. It’s time he mans up, and faces the mistakes he’s made. He owes that to Sam.

If he thought it would help, he would pray to God for it to actually work. But him and God weren’t on speaking terms so he wasn’t even going to bother. And even if they were, he had a few choice words for the man upstairs that that little to do with help. 

What was the point anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone up there was listening to him. It’s not like anyone cared about Dean and his problems. But he can’t help but to wonder about the possibility. His mother always promised he was protected by something larger than himself. She always seemed so sure, so certain, that he, Dean Winchester was worthy of someone’s time. He couldn’t possibly understand why. A high school dropout, with a self medication problem wasn’t worth the effort, human, angel, God or otherwise. 

If his mother could see him now, would she still feel the same way? Would she still think that he was capable of greatness, of something more than himself? As much as he would love to believe, he highly doubts that. 

He knows that if Mary could see her sons now, her heart would break from the disappointment and shame. He knows she wouldn’t even be able to recognize the person he became. He tries to brush it off as fact of life. Everyone changes, no one stays adorable and innocent forever. But in the back of his mind it pains him that he couldn’t do this one thing for the women who loved him, it hurts that he couldn’t have been a better man. 

As he nears the hospital he just _knows_ that something is wrong. Even before he sees the firemen and hears the cries of the patients, he has a feeling of unease in his stomach that he just can’t shake. It’s like he walked into a bad movie, there is panic and mayhem everywhere but Dean cannot hear any of it, he can’t see any of it. Because right where he left his baby brother, his Sammy, was a black hole of charred remains.

Blood rushes to his ears as he runs out his car and towards the still smoldering building. He can see people motioning at him, telling him to turn back, but he can’t, he won’t. He has his brother to go save, the only person left in his life who understood him like no other. It was like his world was ending and fast-forwarding at the same time. Who was going to eat his crappy cooking? Who was going to look at him disapprovingly as he took another swing of something brown and fiery? Who was going to make those ridiculous faces whenever he did something stupid?

He can’t even remember the last time he told his brother he loved him. He can’t remember the last time they actually had _fun_ together. Between Dean being a jerk all the time and Sammy slowly regressing inside himself, their relationship stalled. Something Dean was always looking to fix, but never having the time for.

He runs into the crowd desperately searching for his brother, screams of “Sammy” filling his lungs. It takes him about twenty minutes to realize that his brother isn’t at the scene, and it’s still too chaotic to see if he is among the dead. He falls to his knees, his world falling apart around him. He can’t breathe...can’t...

Panic fills him again, weighing down his heart and his lungs. He feels as though he is drowning, as though he is fighting his way to the surface of this crushing emotion. His vision blurs as hot tears pour out of him, threatening to take him under. People pass but don’t take notice, he isn’t the only one who lost someone, isn’t the only one who is hurting. Other than the fact that he is wearing street clothes, some might even think that he was a patient, the way he yells and cries out. So he stays there, alone and on his knees praying for a miracle. Praying for anything other than the hell he was feeling. 

“Please.” he manages to gasp. “Please, not him too. I---God, I need him. Please not him too.”

He is so engrossed in his pain, so lost in his emotion that he almost doesn’t hear her. It’s a faint buzzing to his ears at first, but then it gets louder and more persistent, forcing him to take notice. Her words pierce him like a arrow, breaking him from his torment. She sits in the dirt, a few feet away, rocking back and forth, eyes flickering from person to person as if she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“Yelloweyesyelloweyesyelloweyesyelloweyes.” she whispers almost religiously, rubbing her hands together as if she were trying to get them clean. Dean wipes away the tears from his eyes and slowly makes his way to her. Although he has managed to mostly pull himself together, his heart is still beating wildly, his hands are still shaking in fear.

Not wanting to startle her he carefully sits down beside her, taking in her appearance. She has wide hazel eyes, eyes that, as young as they were looked like they’d seen too much of the world. They remind him of someone else’s eyes, not necessarily in color but in gravity. If she ever managed to focus on something, he has the feeling that she had the kind of eyes that could look into your heart and tell you who you are. He knows he’s seen eyes like that before, eyes that pierced through your soul, leaving you vulnerable, and stripped down to your very essence. Her bright red hair was charred at its tips, slowly falling out whenever her head moved.

She continues rocking and whispering as if he wasn’t even there. It can’t be a coincidence that she is whispering yellow eyes at the very place he left his little brother, but she is starting to look like she’s more crazy than helpful. 

“What exactly happened here?” he says, hoping the sound of his voice will break her reverie. Her head snaps up, staring at him intently as if she was trying to place him. A flash of recognition flashes through her features and she suddenly grabs him by the hands.

“Yellow eyes,” she says her eye wild. “The boy with the yellow eyes.” He can’t deny it anymore, it’s a strong possibility that his brother is not a victim on this tragedy but the culprit. He didn’t want to think about how there was more blood on Sam’s hands, so he doesn’t say anything, letting her continue. 

“The boy with the yellow eyes.” she says again. “He was so powerful, so destructive. So much fear and pain, so much guilt lies on those shoulders.” She is speaking so quickly he can barely make out the words. He tries to ignore the pain but she’s now wringing his hands in hers in panic. Her eyes that were once focused on him are jumping from place to place again as if she was afraid of being attacked. 

“He has the ferocity of an avenging angel. There are things he can do that are unknown to Heaven and Hell. The things I saw him do.” she stops, clearly unable to go on. Her breathing is steadily getting more erratic and she’s looking a lot like Dean felt not too long ago. Dean has no idea how to help her, having never seen a person have a full blown panic attack before. He still doesn’t know what his brother did, or what this girl witnessed. He isn’t sure what kind of powers Sam wielded on these people, but from the looks of it, it was bad - and not your run of the mill asshole demon bad. This was a whole new level of evil. 

He cautiously raises a hand to her back, figuring if it were him, he’d also need some kind of human contact. The simple act of his touch seems to calm her down. Her breath slows and she stops holding on to his hands for dear life. They fall to the dirt where they begin to draw the same pattern over and over. 

“He is death. He is sickness. He is war. And he is starvation. He is the end and the beginning.” She says tiredly. “But he is still in here, deep inside, buried under darkness but still here. He was crying out, to me. He wants so badly to be saved. Save him, Dean Winchester, save your brother. They depend on it, we all do.”

“How---how do you know my name? Who are you?” Dean sputters, still rattled by the whole situation. 

The girl looks at him confused, how could she not know his name? He is all they ever talk about...all she ever hears.“They are all aware of your name Dean, they talk about you constantly. Especially, the odd one, the one who lost you. He talks about you the most.”

“Who's they? What odd one? What are you talking about?” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders. He still doesn’t get any of this, this girl, as insane as she looks, knows more then she lets on. But he never gets an answer to his question. An EMT comes over and takes her away, stating she needs to be transferred to a different hospital. As the girl walks away she looks over her shoulders and gives Dean a sad smile. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Dean.” she says. “And so will he.”

“He?” Dean calls after her. But by then she is gone, lost among the still anguished victims of Sammy’s wrath. Dean is left with more questions than answers, the only thing he knows for sure is that his brother was still alive, if he is still human remains to be seen. 

He looks down at the at the girl’s drawing. It’s the same thing over and over. Four circles, one in the center and three surrounding, it making a triangle of sorts. He wonders what it could possibly mean and if it was even important, but this girl seems to know things others don’t. So he commits the pattern to memory, saving it for a later date.

One thought rings clear in his mind as he gazes down on the girl’s drawing. He’s alive...Sammy is alive. But it’s hard to feel relief now that he knows what his brother has been up to. Even though he only knows the bits and pieces, it’s not hard to imagine an enraged Sammy hurting all these people, leaving destruction and pain in his wake. It’s a truth that hurts him more then anything he has ever felt in his life, even harder then when he thought his brother was dead. Because this...whatever is going on with his brother, this isn’t Sam...this isn’t even the shell of Sam. But if the the girl’s words were to be trusted Sam was still in there, still waiting for his big brother to save him. 

The only issue was that the blood of all these people was on his hands now. The blood of everyone Sam has and will hurt, is his responsibility, his cross to bear. If he hadn’t been so concerned about saving his own neck...maybe...

It’s a thought he has been trying to avoid since the night of his fathers death...it was a choice, a decision he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to make. But he knows better now, he knows what road lies ahead of him. Before this is over, if he can’t save Sammy...if he can’t pull him back.

The thought stills his heart. He can’t even put it into words. The dorky kid that he practically raised with his own hands. The boy whose short life has been shrouded with such bullshit, it was surprising he was able to make it this far. How was he supposed to end the life of his brother...his best friend...the only one who saw past the crap and into the gushy insides. Why was it that he needed to fight for the greater good? What has the world done for him so far that he had to sacrifice the only thing left in this world that he loves? 

It’s not fair - he shouldn’t have to. Dean may act like he is all grown up and bad but he is still a kid, he still has a lot of growing to do himself. So why should he be the world’s savior? Dean knows he has come to an impasse, he knows that up until this point he has been avoiding the issue, trying to find his answers in the world of books. 

He can either save his brother, or kill the only family he has left. A single tear rolls down his cheek, the only bit of emotion he can handle at this point. He is so tired, so confused, and now he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. As he turns his back on the damaged building he can’t help but feel as though he is heading off to war, a war that will define the relationship he has with his brother for the rest of their lives. A war that he feels like he’s already lost before he’s even begun to fight.

*** 

It isn't a grand moment. There is no flash of light or clap of thunder. There are no spectators, no witnesses. An angel is on the verge of losing his wings, and there is no one around to notice, let alone care. 

And he feels nothing.

No pain, no fear. In fact, the only thing he does feel is a pang in his chest for the brothers and sisters he'll be leaving behind and the only home he’s ever known. It’s then he realizes what the fall really means. It’s being alone, and being forgotten. It’s being cast out and cast away. The fact that he did it for the love of two humans, the fact that he did it for what he thought was right, it didn’t matter. Right now, in this moment, it didn’t matter. And that was the whole point.

His fall from grace wasn’t going to be sudden, or all at once. It was going to be slow and painful. Every day would come with come with a new challenge, a new hill to cross over. Every morning he will come to find himself more human, powers that he once used without thought will suddenly be gone or weakened. They want him to suffer for his choice, suffer for the love he choose to embrace. They want him regret it, to resent the humans he is slowly becoming. But he can’t do that, at this point picking between his wings and Dean wasn’t a hard decision. He’d pick Dean every day for as long as time would allow him.

He doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t even know where to begin his journey. He suspects however that it’s going to take time, even though he was still at full strength someone (he suspects Zachariah) is shielding both boys from him. If this was going to be his life now, doing things the human way, then he can’t fail. He has to prove that he is more than his destiny. He has to prove that he is more than a simple foot soldier, a yes man. He has to be the kind of person worthy of being by Dean’s side, someone who is worthy of his forgiveness. 

So he has to hunt them down, follow their trail and make it up to them. And if by that point he’s no longer an angel, if there is nothing left for him to offer, hopefully they...hopefully Dean is willing to take him as he is. 

Three weeks in and he hasn’t found anything. Just as he is beginning to lose hope, he happens to find her. He isn’t sure who she is, or rather what she is, but he knows that she has come into contact with Dean over the last few months and that’s the best he has. 

He finds her in some sort of mental institution, somewhere in the wilds of America. He doesn’t know who Dean would have known there, but a lead is a lead and he is going to follow it to the end.

He bypasses all the medical staff, slipping into her room in the middle of the night, his powers still allowing him the privacy and covertness he needs to pull this off. As soon as he walks into the door he can feel it, whoever this girl is, she speaks of home. There is an energy around her that is like nothing he has never seen before. Below the wisdom lies so much sadness with her, more sadness that he has ever seen in a person. She is no longer an angel and something a little more than human. Her name is on the tip of his tongue, trying to worm its way out. 

Her back is towards him and she is staring out the barred window. “It’s you,” she whispers, still turned away from him. “I’ve been waiting for you. You have to make a choice now, you can’t straddle the line anymore. Either you are all in, or you’re not, but from what I can see, it looks like you are in this fight for the long haul.”

“But I don’t understand,” he says, walking towards her. “I know there is something happening, something involving Sam and Dean, but I don’t know what that is.”

She finally turns to face him. “It’s so much more then you can possibly imagine.” 

It isn’t her face that clues him in, in fact he doesn’t even recognize it. Because of constantly changing vessels, faces mean close to nothing to the angels. It’s her eyes. Humans weren’t half off when they said that eyes were the windows to the soul. Right there in front of him, was someone he thought he lost for good. 

“Anael?” he whispers, taking a tentative step closer. 

“Hello Castiel.” She says, emotion thick in her voice. “It’s good to see you again.”

“But what--what are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in so long. Why did you leave us, Anna?” 

She smiles sadly and sits on her narrow bed, motioning him to sit beside her. “For the very same reasons you did, Castiel. I felt as though it was the right choice...and it didn’t help that I had fallen in love.”

Cas is still shocked to see her, after all these years he had assumed she had either fallen or died. But to find her here, to find her among the humans, it was still jarring. 

“But why a mental hospital? Of all the places you could have ended up, why here?”

She looks upward, tears slowing drift down her cheek, her voice so thick and raw she can barely speak. “I didn’t fall gracefully, Castiel.” she says, smiling briefly at her choice of words. “It nearly drove me insane, knowing I was trapped with the mistake I made. I--” she stops, not able to go on. She places a hand on Castiel’s, looking at him much like a mother would look at her young. “Choosing your own course of action...it’s terrifying and it gets worse. I just want you to know that. It’ll get worse, but you have what I never had, Castiel. You have a future.” 

Taking her words to heart, he gives her hand a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t know why she fell or who she fell for, but he knows that she hasn’t been the same since, and it breaks his heart. 

She wipes away a tear and puts on a warm smile to reassure him that she is okay, but they both know she is far from it.

“Do you know about the Hunters, Castiel?” She doesn’t give the angel time to answer before she continues. “There was a time when humans and angels worked together as one. Fighting against all those who wished ill upon Heaven and Earth. But the angels got too cocky. They felt as though they could protect both realms on their own without having to confide in their weaker counterparts.” 

She stands up and walks towards the drawings that Cas hadn’t noticed are littering the walls. Pictures of great battles, and of fearsome angels taking flight. There were symbols he’s never seen and names he’s never heard of. It was like the present, past and future collided on her walls in bursts of lines and color. 

“The humans felt as though they could no longer trust their partners.” she continues. “It became a dying breed, these angel/human pairs, to the point where there would only be one every few centuries. The last one ended violently, when her angel abandoned her after her family was killed by a demon. After that the humans who still remembered the old ways wanted nothing to do with angels, and the angels felt like they were above it all. So the practice was stopped and both species went on pretending the other didn’t exist. The last human to form this kind of bond with an angel just so happened to be Dean’s mother, Mary Campbell, and her angel was Gabriel.”

Castiel tries to process all the information he just got. He knows Gabriel, or at least he did. Much like Anna, several decades ago Gabriel left Heaven, never to be heard from again. Everyone had painted him as a traitor and a deserter, a fool who turned his back on the will of God to get lost among the humans. But Castiel never thought so. Gabriel was the only one who had ever treated him with the slightest bit of decency. He never made Cas feel different or unwanted. Sure he would make jokes at Cas’ expense, but Cas never minded it because he knew the other angel meant no real ill-will.

“So Mary was a Hunter. What about her children? What do they have to do with anything?” he asks. 

“There have been potential hunters since the fall of Mary’s and Gabriel's partnership, kids who had what it took to be greater than the storybooks said they would, but there is something about the two of you - something that has never and will never be seen again. Didn’t you feel it when you first met? He is your truth, just like you are his.”

She pauses slightly, a small smile on her lips. “Don’t you see, Castiel? Your connection with Dean is special. You’re the first Angel and hunter pair since Mary and Gabriel. Castiel, you have a choice to make,” she whispers before turning around quickly. “But first you have to find the boy with yellow eyes. You have to find Sam, Castiel.”

“Sam? Yellow eyes? But why?” Cas asks, tilting his head again. He can feel something shifting, changing. Anna’s eyes start to flick around the room and her body begins to shake.

“Sam, you have to find Sam. You have to find him, Castiel. You have to!” she cries. Castiel quickly stands up, but stays back, unsure of what to do. 

“Yelloweyesyelloweyesyelloweyes,” she begins to chant, rocking on her heels. 

“Anna? Anna!?!” She was beginning to scare him, shrieking at the top of her lungs. He didn’t fully understand what was happening to her, or what traumas she has had to endure, but while he still had his powers, he wanted to do all he could for her. As he got closer to her she started swinging at him. At first he let her, but she was starting to get in the way of what he wanted to do. He catches her hands with his and swifty presses two fingers into her forehead. He has to do this quickly and go before anyone discovers him. From the way she is yelling, someone is bound to come looking. 

She collapses in his arms and he carries her to her bed, gently pushing the hair from her face when he lays her down. She looks so peaceful, it’s almost as if nothing is wrong. He wishes he could do more to help her, anything to help ease her pain, but this is the most he can do, the most he can offer her right now. 

One more mournful look in her direction and he is lost in the wind. He never actually got any closer to Dean, he is as lost to Cas as he ever was. All he has is a story and a mission, to save Sam. Officially, Sam was never his charge but he feels as connected to him as he does to Dean and he will do everything is his power to save the boy. 

Castiel isn’t sure what to do next. He needs time to think, to plan out how to find Sam. And to top it off, he is tired, so incredibly tired. He has never known weariness like this, he can feel it deep in his bones. He knows that humans go through this often but it’s still frightening, still alien, and he knows he doesn’t like the way it feels. He slips undetected into a motel room, having no money to actually pay for it. Cas just needs a quiet space, somewhere to recharge then he’ll be off again. 

He lays on the bed for what seems like hours, as tired as he is, he can’t will himself sleep so he turns on the T.V, hoping the soft lights will lull him. He gets lost in glimpses of cooking shows, sex scandals, murders and riots, never really taking much interest in anything he sees. Until he sees one news report that chills him to his tired bones.

The news reporter can’t help but to have fear leak from his voice as he speaks. Images of burning buildings and screaming people pass behind him like some sort of surreal movie. 

_You join us now in Birmingham, Michigan, the latest city hit in the rash of terrorist attacks that have been plaguing the nation for the past few weeks. Reports are still unclear but it seems like thousands of been injured and killed in today’s attack. In a statement given by the US government this morning, they urge citizens to stay calm and stay inside. If you have any information, please call the 1-800 number at the bottom of the screen._

Castiel is stunned, being around for as long as he has, he has seen war and pain so this is nothing new. He has seen nations go down in flames and single individuals committing such heinous acts that it was sickening. But this...these were his people now...these humans, they were his family and the fact that they could do such a thing to each other...it was saddening. 

_However, in almost every attack, there are reports of a young boy, between the ages of 13 and 15. No one knows who he is, but it’s been reported that he just stands there watching the cities burn around him, ignoring officials who advise him to get out the way. Several witnesses have come forward with claims of seeing his eyes flash bright yellow._

A rough sketch of the child’s face pops up next to the reporter's head, and Castiel can’t help but to feel his heart ache once more.

_If anyone knows the whereabouts of this child, who he is, or who he might be affiliated with please call the 1-800 number at the bottom of the screen.....wait...this just in! Witnesses say that the yellow eyed boy has been spotted in Lawrence, Kansas. If you see him do not approach him, leave him for officials to take care of. Please folks, stay close to home, stay close to your families and stay safe. This is reporter Benjamin Cantwell. Goodnight America._

Castiel stares at the TV screen in shock. Even though it’s been a while he would know that face anywhere. He doesn’t understand. What happened to that innocent little face? The bouncing baby boy that cooed in happiness when Mary sang to him. How did fourteen years turn him into this...this killer? Thousands of them, Sam has killed thousands of people. 

He has to stop him, no matter what the cost. Cas barely thinks before he zapping himself to Lawrence. And what he finds there affects him more than he could have even thought possible. The quiet town is in ruins. Other than the occasional shriek, it seems like the place is abandoned. 

“Please, please help me.” He whips his head around looking for the source of the voice. Several feet away lies a girl in the dirt. She is covered in so much blood that it’s almost impossible to know where it is all coming from. In her hand is a blood soaked teddy bear that she is holding onto for dear life.

“Please, it hurts so much...please.” 

He runs to her, and gently strokes her hair before healing her. “What is your name?” he whispers. 

At first she looks at him with fear, she had been in so much pain, there was so much fear gripping her heart, than all of a sudden it was gone as if it had never been there to begin with. She’s suspicious, but also very grateful. 

“Claire, my name is Claire. Are you an angel?” 

Castiel smiles sadly at her. “I used to be, Claire. Where are your parents?” 

Tears roll down her face as she recalls what must be a painful memory for her. “My dad...my dad is dead. That boy...I saw that boy kill my dad without even touching him. And I don’t know where my mom is...I can’t find her.” 

“Well, if it isn’t Castiel the angel. Long time no see, Cas.” 

Castiel grips the girl by the shoulders and forces her to look at him. “You need to run, now. Whatever happens don’t look back, don’t hesitate just run.” The girl nods once and jumps to her feet, running as fast as her newly healed legs will take her. ‘Goodbye, Claire.’ he thinks as he slowly turns to face the newcomer. “Sam,” he says. 

“So we meet again, Castiel. It’s been...fourteen years since we last saw each other? Looks like we both did a little growing up.” he laughs, a sick, cold laugh that has no business coming out of the mouth of someone so young. 

“Why are you doing this, Sam?” Cas says hesitantly. Sam is being cordial for now, but who knows how long that is going to last. The look in the boy's eyes says that any moment could be his last. 

“Why not? That’s the thing about humanity, Cas. Its very foundation is misery and suffering. They are all just sheep waiting for the slaughter. They just want to be told what to do, how to feel. Who am I to deny the people what they want, Castiel...what they deserve?” Sam laughs again, his yellow eyes flickering with the flames he was still staring at. 

“Did you come here to kill me?” he says quietly. “Come here to put an end to all this pain I’ve caused? Are you trying to play the hero? Make up for being such a complete failure of an angel?” With every word his voice grows louder, unadulterated rage slowly streaming in. 

“You are weak! You all are! So try and stop me Cas! Put an end to this. Save the world, get the girl, the whole nine yards, I dare you. In fact...” he holds his arms out wide as if inviting Castiel in for a hug. “I would love nothing better. Show me what you’ve got, Castiel, show me what you have hidden underneath that trenchcoat. Show me that you are worth the breath I’m wasting speaking to you.” 

Cas isn’t sure how much he can do. As of now he is still at full power, but given his lack of energy as if late, who knows when his powers might fail him. He fears the worst, but he hasn’t backed away from anything to this point, and he wasn’t about to begin now. He can feel the cold reassurance as his angel blade slides into his hand. 

“You must stop this, Sam, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Sam howls with laughter. “ _You?_ Hurt me? Do you know who you’re speaking to? I’m the Demon Prince. I’m Death. I’m your worst nightmare and every dark thought brought to life. You could never hurt me, Castiel...but I’m still waiting for you to try.” 

Cas hesitates for a beat before charging, angel blade flipping in his hand. They struggle against each other for a while before Sam throws him against a wall. He clutches his side as blood gushes through his fingers. He looks up and gives Cas a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You got me angel...congrats, that won’t happen again.”

Sam pins him to the wall with a flick of a hand. “I could kill you, you know,” he whispers. “I could make you suffer more than you ever imagined possible. I could make your worst dreams seem so life like you’ll never be able to tell what’s real again. I could destroy you with nothing more than a finger.” He grabs the angel blade from Castiel’s hands and slowly sticks it in his side. The smile he was wearing before grows wider as he watches Cas struggle with not screaming. “Not giving me the satisfaction of a scream, Cas?” he says mockingly. “We’ll see about that.”

He digs it in further, twisting it, taking complete pleasure in the look of pain Cas was now showing. 

“Please...” Castiel manages to mumble.

Sam brings a hand to his ear, acting as though he didn’t hear what the angel said. “What? Didn’t hear you there, Cas...say that again.”

“Please. Your mother--Mary wouldn’t want this for you.” 

The cold smile now slips from the young boy’s face. “Mary? You really want to talk about my mother right now? You know, I blamed myself for this. I thought I was unclean, I thought I was being punished for her wrongful death. But then I realized something, This is all _your_ fault! If you had just done your job right, if you and your kind had protected her like you promised you would, none of this would be happening. Yellow Eyes wouldn’t have gotten into my head, I wouldn’t have killed my own father, Dean wouldn’t have left me in that hellhole to rot. _I_ wouldn’t have become a fucking freak!” 

Sam raises his fist, lifting Castiel’s body into the air along with it. “You should have tried harder!” he screams. “You should have known better! You call yourselves the keepers of God’s will, the warriors of the weak. But you’re not! You are just a bunch of liars and cowards!” 

It finally dawns on Castiel that this runs much deeper than a small town boy with demonic tendencies. The world was falling apart around their ears and no one, not God, not the Hosts of Heaven, no one was doing a damn thing to stop it. 

Sam is screaming into the wind now, tears falling as uncontrollable anger courses through his tiny body like a flash flood. He slams his fist down, throwing Castiel’s body into the ground. “Fine! Let’s talk about my mother then, Cas. Let’s talk about how I can’t even remember her face.” He rips the angel blade from Cas’ side and shoves it in his thigh. He doesn’t want to kill the falling angel yet, but ripping his vessel to shreds was a start. 

“Let’s talk about how my own father wasn’t capable of giving two shits about my brother and I. Let’s talk about how when the first bullet ripped through his drunkard body he didn’t even give me a look of surprise, or disappointment. He looked at me like he was expecting this to happen eventually.”

Sam waves his hands wildly and slashes appear on Cas’ body, blood spilling out, with no sign of stopping. 

“Let’s talk about how everything I have ever loved, either died, or walked out on me! Let’s talk about Dean! Dean was my family, my brother, and he betrayed me. He thought it would be better to send me away than to help me fight this together like we should have. I have been with him through everything, and he didn’t find me worthy of saving. He threw me away like yesterday's trash and he didn’t give me a second thought.”

His hands wrap around the angels throat now, perfectly content in strangling the life out of him if he had to. Rage is now a permanent feature in his eyes. No more flashes or flickers. What was once cold and calculated was now white hot and wild. This was the boy who could stroll into a town and watch it burn around him. This was the boy who could listen to thousands scream and cry and feel nothing. This was the boy who could kill his father in cold blood and never lose a day of sleep.

This is the secret of Sam’s power. Yellow Eyes did nothing more than personify every emotion the boy was already feeling a hundred fold. So what started as guilt, and pain changed into hate and fury in a blink of an eye. And the longer Sam continued to tap into those feelings, the longer he would continue down the path of his own destruction.

Cas can barely breathe, let alone speak as Sam continues to attempt at crushing his throat, but he has to try, he has to get through to the boy.

“Sam...Sam,” he manages to gasp. “All this time he has been trying to help you, he loves you more than anything.” 

Sam is too far gone to really focus on Castiel’s words. He pulls the blade out of Cas’ leg and dangles it over his heart. “Goodbye, Cas.” He plunges the blade in without a second thought and Castiel screams in pain as his being is ripped apart cell by cell. What is left of his angelic properties tries to repair him at the same time. It’s like poison killing everything in sight while his powers rush to put it all back together. The battle between destruction and repair is a losing one. All he can see is white blinding lights, burning his eyes and taking all sights of Sam with it.

‘This is what dying must feel like.’ Cas thinks to himself. And for the first time since he left Heaven he isn’t afraid. In his long existence he has done exactly what was expected of him time and time again. This was the first time he has ever done something because _he_ thought it was right. Tabris was right. Free will was a poisonous rose, beautiful to behold, but destructive and damning in the long run. He is just glad he got the chance to know what it felt like, what it meant to be free. 

His grace is being ripped to ribbons as if it were nothing, the very last thing he regrets before succumbing to the darkness is that he never saw Dean again. That he never saw those great green eyes flash in excitement and joy again. That he will never get to say sorry for that night, and for all the pain he caused. That he never gets the chance to say that he...that he...

He wonders about the state of his wings, and how they will be forever imprinted on the ground beneath him. The final resting place of the fallen angel who gave his life for humanity. 

‘Funny,’ he thinks. Death feels warm and soft, like the blanket Dean used to carry around when he was scared. 

_Dean._

The name of his old charge brings him peace. Cas figures it’s kind of poetic that way. Dean was the one who helped him live, it was only fitting he would help him die. Wrapped in warmth indicative of a mother’s love, Castiel the angel breaths his very last, thinking only of wings, and the boy he lost.


	5. Highway to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time may heal all wounds...but not this time...and never for us.

_Suddenly its not the Earth holding you here anymore, it’s them. Everything you’ve ever known, everything you’ve ever loved, gets snipped away until they are the only thing that’s left. They are your truth, your reason to be._

_As you slowly revolve around each other, giving and taking, you begin to wonder when it all changed, when they became your force of gravity. Time and space fade away like the wisps of a forgotten dream, leaving nothing but the reality of the moment before you. The moment you realize that everything has changed and yet, in some ways it’s like it has always been this way. Like you have always felt this way._

_And you would do anything, be anything they need,_

_Friend_

_Protector_

_Lover_

_and soulmate, for as long as time allows, for as long as you continue to breathe._

_And every moment with them, every smile, every tear, is reason to be alive, reason to keep fighting, and reason enough to continue drifting in the wasteland between Heaven and Hell._

***

_There was so much pain and anger pounding through him, an emotional disease that coursed through his veins in waves, drowning him in their intensity. There was sadness mixed with longing and fear, so old and ancient, so true to the meaning of the words. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, it was almost as if he was never supposed to feel it in the first place.  
It swirled around him like fog, choking everything in sight until a sliver of calm twisted through him, working its way through every orifice of his body. Acceptance, it was calm derived from acceptance, of the situation, of death...it was the acceptance that this was the end, this was goodbye, this was the end of the road._

_This is goodbye._

_“Dean, this is goodbye.”_ His voice pushed through the fog and emotion and worked its way into Dean’s heart and mind. 

_“I’m sorry Dean, but this is goodbye.”_

_“Goodbye.”_

Dean wakes with a start, breathing heavy and sweat soaking through the sheets. He’s never had a dream like that before, it was so vivid, so _real._ He can’t remember most of it, or maybe he just doesn’t want to, but his brother was there and he was losing control in ways Dean didn’t think possible. Whoever his brother was pointing his anger towards today...well he’d be more than a little surprised if they were still alive.

The last tendrils of the dream leaves his body leaving a sense of dread and importance in it’s wake. He couldn’t place his finger on it but there was something he had to do, someone he had to save.

It was on the tip of his tongue, on the fringe of his mind, just out of his reach. A name, a face, a color swimming through his memory until...

_Castiel_

The name rings through his mind like church bells. In his mind’s eye he can see the angel’s broken body as clearly as if he were in the very room.

Dean doesn’t know how he knows, but he must get to Cas, he has to.

He jumps out of bed, about to grab his stuff and run to his car, but something stops him. What is he doing, running to the rescue of someone he hasn’t seen since he was four? He doesn’t even know if the dream was real or not, let alone why it was his responsibility to go save him.  
He stands there for a moment, wondering if he was just imagining the whole thing when brief but powerful flashes of a dying Cas streams into his head again. That’s all the motivation he needs to get going. The angel was just hanging on to life; who knows if whatever was keeping him here would last that long. 

I’m probably just crazy, Dean thinks as he hops into the Impala. He has no clue where Cas even is.... yet here he was starting the car and driving. It was as if some part of him just _knew_ exactly where Cas was located. He doesn’t listen to music as he drives at nearly breakneck speed. He was breaking so many road laws it’s surprising he makes it to his destination without being pulled over or dying for that matter.

 

Dean doesn’t need road signs to clue him, he knows exactly where he is once he passes through the border.

Kansas. Of course it would be here. He supposes everything comes back to this place, to his home. Or...what is left of it. Lawrence is in complete ruins. Everything was coated in a layer of thick, dark ash, and there was more than one home still smoldering. Despite how much he wishes it wasn't so, Dean knows that Sam is responsible, but he can't think about that now, he has to find Cas.

The thick air makes it hard to breathe as Dean forces his way through the rubble, more coughing Cas’ name than screaming it.

He can feel a tugging, something pulling him along, getting him closer to his destination. His eyes search every corner, every crevice. His heart jumps every time he sees a shape that might be Castiel and it falls every time he realizes it’s just a piece of wood. 

He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep looking to no avail. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was just overreacting. But his gut feeling tells him otherwise, that tugging tells him to keep looking, that he is closer than he thought.

Dean goes down another street, running past the row of houses when something stops him in his tracks. It may be blackened and smoking, and ages since he last saw it, but he would know it anywhere. The connection he felt with the house was still strong, even though it was nearly burned to the ground. It marked his beginning, the place where the best and worst moments of his life occurred. The tugging stops and he realizes the barely moving mass several feet away is exactly what he is looking for.

“Cas?” he says running up the angel. Whatever he was expecting when he laid eyes on Castiel again...it wasn’t this. The little boy who played pretended with Dean was all grown up now. It wasn’t like he expected Cas to be little forever, but whenever Dean pictured him, he saw the little boy with blue eyes too big for his face, parading around in clothes that were too big on him.

What he didn’t imagine was Cas in the awkward state between boy and man, the beginnings of stubble gracing his face. The only thing that stayed the same are his eyes, still electric blue, still incredibly ancient, still too big for his face.

He can’t even form the words to describe what he is feeling at the moment. After fourteen years, the angel that has plagued his thoughts is lying at his feet, and Dean doesn’t even know if he is dead or alive.

“Cas?” he whispers. It doesn’t look good. The angel looks like he’s been torn to shreds; blood paints his body like a bad art project, and Dean doesn’t even know where to begin.

 

He lowers his ear to Cas’ lips straining to hear any sign of breathing, and his heart constricts when he doesn’t hear anything. “Cas, breathe.” he says, starting CPR. “Come on, buddy, I’m gonna need you to breathe.” He lowers his head to check Cas’ breathing again. Still hearing nothing, he tries harder. “Come on you ass, don’t you dare die on me now, not before you explain yourself.” He repeats the process again, pounding and checking, a relentless cycle that leaves him cold, tired and hopeless.

“Come on, Cas,” he says a little louder, blinking away the tears he hadn't noticed were welling up.

“Come on, you stupid, selfish--. _Come on!_ ”

He gives the angel’s chest one more pound and Cas finally starts breathing on his own, but he’s still out cold. It was shallow and weak, but it meant Cas was still alive.

The last thing Dean wants to do is to leave Cas here while he goes to get his car, but he knows that carrying him would only cause him more pain and damage.

“You better be alive by the time I come back,” he mutters, running to where his car is. He drives the Impala down to where he left Cas. “Okay,” he mumbles, carefully picking Cas up and placing him in the back seat. He needs to find a place to get Cas cleaned up and quick.

Dean is sure he’s probably crazy to do all this for a man - no, angel that abandoned him fourteen years ago, but now that he’s here, he can’t just leave Cas to die. Not now that he has already seen him.

Finding a motel....or finding _anything_ that hasn’t been destroyed in his brother’s attack is near impossible. In fact, it’s only when he’s well outside of Lawrence does he find anything remotely serviceable.

Checking into the motel, Dean quickly and gently moves Cas into the motel room, and onto the bed.

He questions his reaction to this situation once again. Cas abandoned him, and his family was gone because of it. But this is _Cas_ , his one time best friend and protector. Logically, now Dean knows Castiel not being there the night of the fire was probably not his fault. He knows that the angel would have done everything in his power if he had known. But that doesn’t explain the aftermath; it doesn’t excuse the fact that Cas never came back to him.

Dean bends down, pressing his ear near Cas’ mouth, letting out a sigh of relief when he still feels Castiel’s warm breath tickle his ear.  
Dean doesn’t even know where to begin, he’s not one to shrink away from blood and gore, but this is something entirely different. Cas’ life is literally in his hands. 

It was an odd reversal of roles. Dean had always seen the angel as invincible, a constant pillar of strength and power. But seeing him just lie there, chest barely moving, wounds decorating his pale skin---it was chilling. And above that, it was wake up call of sorts, no one was safe from his brother’s wrath. He would continue to leave bodies in his wake until Dean was man enough to stop him. 

Taking a deep breath, he strips off Castiel’s clothes, gasping at how much damage there is. He runs to the bathroom grabbing all the towels, pressing one hand against what seems to be the biggest wound. Whispered apologies fill the air as Cas lets out a pained groans.

“Shh, Cas, it’s okay. It’s okay. I...It’s not even that bad. Don’t worry, I’m going to fix this,” Dean promises. There’s so much blood it’s a miracle that Castiel is even still alive. “Okay, okay, I can do this. I can fix this.” He runs into the bathroom again, running water in the bathtub. Laying down a blanket on the bathroom floor, Dean slowly brings Cas over to it.

Scooping up some water, he slowly pours it over Cas’ body. It cleans off the blood but it’s useless when Cas is still bleeding. He grabs the first aid kit he always has with him and grabs a bottle of whiskey as well, It’s not the best work he’ll ever do, but it’s better than nothing. 

Dean works fast, cleaning the wounds with water and sewing them up before sterilizing it with the whiskey. Cas lets out a moan every so often, but other than that it’s silent. When Cas is all patched up Dean wraps the angel’s chest in gauze. 

Picking Cas up again, he moves over to the bed, pulling back the covers, resting Cas there and tucking him in. Castiel’s eyes flutter open, staring up at Dean. 

“Dean,” he groans, his eyes falling shut again. 

“Shh, Cas. Don’t talk, you’re really hurt. But it’s okay, I’ll take care of you.” Dean promises again. 

Cas slowly shakes his head. “Dean, I’m dying,” he croaks out. 

Dean shakes his head back at Cas. “No, no... I fixed you up, you’re okay now. It’s all okay now.” Dean says, getting in the bed next to Cas. He feels Cas’ pulse, his own quickening as he feels Castiel’s slowing down. “No, Cas. You can’t leave, not again. I saved you, I did it. I took care of you. Don’t leave, please don’t leave me again,” Dean cries willing Castiel’s heartbeat to go back to normal. “You’re not allowed to leave again, please Cas.”

Castiel smiles up at Dean. “Dean, I....” Cas coughs hard, closing his eyes. His pulse is almost nonexistent. 

“Cas....” Dean wraps an arm gently around his body, his hand still feeling as Cas’ pulse grows weaker and weaker. And then it stops completely. Dean lets out a loud sob as he allows himself to cry, his face buried in Cas’ neck. “Cas, no. Come back, you have to come back, you can’t leave, not again.” Dean begs. 

Dean cries for hours, eventually wearing himself out until he falls asleep holding Castiel in his arms. 

***

Cas feels warm, and light. He must have died shortly after he thought of Dean and his goodbye to him. He doesn’t feel any pain and Castiel considers this a blessing. This is what death is like, peaceful and safe.

Cas opens his eyes, confused when he sees the ceiling of the motel room. He looks down, shocked at finding Dean’s head resting on his chest, and Dean’s arm wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“So this is it,” he thinks. “This is what my Heaven looks like.” Cas is still confused about the motel room, seeing how he has only been in one, but the fact that he gets Dean to keep him company makes him happy. 

“Dean,” he mumbles, pushing on Dean’s shoulder, pain immediately shots all over his body. 

This shouldn’t be happening, he should be whole again, pain free. In this state, the most the angel can do is nudge Dean a few times, but to no avail. All Dean does is mumble a few nonsensical words and nuzzles in closer. Since the day before the fire this is the most human contact Cas has gotten in the past fourteen years, he isn’t quite sure how to handle it all but he figures he just has to deal after all he has an eternity to get used to it.

Was he sad that he was dead? Just a bit...there was so much he wanted to do with his existence, so much he wanted to tell Dean before it was too late. But he has a Dean here that he can share with...and even if it’s just a small bubble, he is back in his home. 

He shifts his head again to look at the Hunter sleep. It’s been so long since they had been together, the four year old boy had turned into a man in no time at all. His best friend has changed so much physically speaking that Cas wonders what else could be different. Could they pick up where they left off, could Dean even give him a second chance?

Dean begins to fidget in his sleep clearly annoyed by something. “Mmmm Cas, you think too much,” he says, still sleeping. 

Castiel is confused by the boy’s statement. How on earth could Dean know that Cas was thinking too much? 

Dean is still fidgeting, managing to hit every sore part on Cas’ body, when he wakes up suddenly looking around for some unknown attacker. His eyes find Cas’ and for a while they stay there. Blue against green, drinking up fourteen years of change. Dean catches himself and pushes away from the Cas, acting as though falling asleep on the chest of the angel that had been his constant thought was no big deal. 

“You’re awake,” Dean states gruffly. Castiel can’t move much without hurting himself so he lays there, it’s quite obvious that he is indeed awake. 

“Did Sam do this to you?” 

Cas doesn’t say anything, it doesn’t matter anyway. What’s done is done. 

Dean waits for an answer, but when Cas doesn’t give one up he sighs in exasperation. “Nothing ever changes, does it?” he says. “Well I fixed you, now get the hell out of here.” Cas is taken aback, this shouldn’t be happening. This was his own personal heaven, Dean can’t hate him here...he was supposed to get what he wanted here. 

“Dean...” he begins.

“You think you can come back after fourteen years? _Fourteen years,_ Cas! I didn’t hear a word from you, not even once. My mother died, Cas. Remember her? The woman who took you in? The woman who let you into her life? She _died_ because of you. She died because you couldn’t do your fucking job.” Dean is on a roll, this moment was fourteen years in the making. He had practiced this speech over and over again hoping that there would come the day where he could deliver it. 

“You stupid, selfish, bastard! You could have come to me, you could have given me your condolences. I spent _years_ wondering if you were even real! And. You. Couldn’t. Even. Bother. To. Show. Your. Face.” With every word Dean attacks a part of the angels body. Not caring that he was yelling in pain, not caring that he wasn’t even bothering to beg Dean to stop, not caring about that sad, confused look on Cas’ face, a look that said he deserved nothing less. 

“Did I really mean that little to you? I mean I know, you’re an angel of the Lord. You’ve probably met and befriended a lot of people before me. But for me, you were it. For me, you were all that mattered. You made me feel important, you made me feel larger than life. Then you took that all away from me, Cas! I got a glimpse of what people spend forever looking for. And you took that away!” 

Cas can’t do much more than watch Dean ramble and rave, he deserves this. It seems even here Cas is going to have to explain himself, atone for what he’s done. 

But it seems as if fight has gone out of him. Dean plops himself into a chair, looking everywhere but Cas. “You left me once,” he says dejectedly. “I’m sure you can do it again.” 

“That’s not true,” Cas says quietly. 

“What?” Dean scoffs. 

“ _I said,_ that’s not true. You were it for me also. You seem to have this grand notion that I run around befriending every human I meet. You were the first and the last, Dean. I have lived for so long and no one, _no one_ has had a more profound effect on me. I was ready to risk it all for you. I have risked it all for you. Words cannot express the guilt and shame I feel for that night. I will never be sorry enough to make it up to you. But don’t you ever say that you meant nothing to me. You meant the world Dean Winchester...you still do.” 

Dean lets his words sink in, mulling them over for a bit. “Somehow,” he says. “I don’t believe you.”

He walks out the door and towards his car, ready to take a very long drive.

As Cas watches his old charge walk away, he begins to doubt that this place is Heaven. Dean shouldn’t be able to walk away for him...he shouldn’t feel this badly...his heart shouldn’t break this way. 

No...this must be his personal hell.

*** 

 

Livid doesn’t even begin to describe how Dean feels right now. That stupid son of a bitch really thought he could waltz back into Dean’s life, throw some fancy words around, and all would be rainbows and friggin unicorns. Not if Dean had anything to say about it.

He was driving well over the speed limit, blasting music that was so loud it could raise the dead. He just wanted to drown out his mind. It was full with thoughts of Cas. Cas from when he was four, awkward and serious as hell. Cas now, nineteen and a little more sure of himself. He can see those eyes, blue and electric staring into him like he was the angel’s favorite book.

All of this emotion is driving him insane and no matter how fast he drives he can’t get away from it. Can’t get away from him. No one infuriates him like that angel did. No one can get under Dean’s skin the way Cas can. And when he had the dream about Cas his heart stopped in a way it never has for anyone else. Dean isn’t sure what this means, he isn’t sure what this makes him. But by God it is just another thing to hate Castiel for. 

He spies a bar and makes a hard right. It’s called the Roadhouse and Dean is hoping he can lose himself there tonight. 

Even though he’s underage, he has the confidence to pull it off, and the fake ID in his pocket helps as well. He plops himself on a barstool, flashes a winning smile to the girl across the counter and places his order. 

The object of the night is to get as smashed as humanly possible, getting the girl across the counter let him come home with her was just an added bonus. 

“Sure you should be drinking so many?” she says after his fifth shot of whiskey. 

“I dunno sweetheart, you tell me,” he says with a wink. He can see she’s trying to keep it together, but she can’t stop the slight blush that’s creeping on her features. 

“Are you always this much of a flirt?” she counters. 

“Only with those who are worth it.” They go on like this for hours, Dean is getting more than a little sloppy and the girl, whose name he can’t even remember, is getting more amused. 

“So, who’s the girl,” she says suddenly, cleverly switching his whiskey shots to water ones. Dean is too gone to even notice the difference. 

“Girl? What girl?” he asks her, managing to not only get water down his front, but the counter as well. “There’s no girl. Nope not for me.”

“Boy then?” she asks, eyebrows raised a little. If the boy was a little more sober, she assumes the glare he is shooting her would be a little more effective, but right now with his mouth hanging open he is looking like a stoned oaf. 

“I’m not gay.” 

“Well if it’s not a boy and it’s not a girl, who exactly has you wound so tightly around their finger that you are trying to drink your way into a stranger’s pants.” 

He thinks that over for a second, he really doesn’t want to get into it but after this night he’ll probably never see her again so why not. 

“It’s Cas.” He says nothing more.

“Cas?” she prompts laying down the towel she had been using to clean up Dean’s mess.

“Yes Cas! That ass thinks he can come back after all this time like it was nothing. It’s like he isn’t even aware of how much he hurt me. You’d be hurt too wouldn’t you...wouldn’t you...what’s your name again?” he asks. 

She laughs at him, handing him something to chew on. Hopefully she can sober him up soon, she isn’t up to taking care of strangers tonight, even ones as adorable and damaged as Dean. “For the fifteenth time, my name is Jo. Jo Harvelle. Be sure not to forget it again. So your boyfriend left you, came back and now you’re hurting. Age old story, my friend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, I’m not gay.” he says again. “I like girls, all kinds of girls. Girls like you. Girls with pretty blue eyes that you can get lost in forever. Girls with dark hair that never looks like they put a comb through it. Girls with chapped lips, the kind of lips you wouldn’t mind---” he stops himself, suddenly aware of what he is saying. “I’m not gay.” he says again, more to reassure himself than anything else, but she doesn’t need to know that. 

“Enough about him,” he says placing a hand on her shoulder. “He isn’t important right now, you are.” 

She looks at his hand on her before lightly picking it up and placing it on the counter. “I’m not interested in being your escape tonight, Dean. You are running from something, and we both know you don’t want me.” 

“But I do baby,” he says a little pathetically. “I’m not running from anything, and even if I were I’d still want you.” He tries to get up but the world is spinning so hard, he falls right back down. 

She can’t help but to laugh at the poor idiot, whoever this Cas person is Dean has got it so bad that he is willing to do anything to prove he doesn’t. “Come on, is there anyone I can call for you? You need to get home.” Ignoring his pleas of how fine he is she turns away to go find the phone they keep for such occasions. When she gets back, he is gone, in his place a napkin with his number and the words “just in case”.

It’s fine. Dean doesn’t need her anyway, he thinks as he stumbles his way to his car. Besides she thought he was gay. No women he had ever turned the charms on thought he was gay. He has never had a gay moment in his life. Well, except for that one time with Rhonda Hurley and her pink satin underwear. But that doesn’t count, or at least he hopes it doesn’t. 

He knows it probably isn’t the best idea to drive in his state but he doesn’t care. The point was to feel numb and right now he was feeling a whole lot of nothing. Stomping on the gas, he takes off as if the devil was chasing him. “Hey Satan, payin my dues!” he sings. “Playin in a rock band, hey momma, look at me. I’m on my way to the promised land! I’m on the highway to hell! Highway to hellllll!” He’s bashing his head with the music, letting it flow through him. Too much has been taken from him, he’s been jerked around for too long. One by one everything he loved was taken from him, and the one thing that decided to come back he didn’t want or need. 

He is screaming at the top of his lungs, throwing curses at the wind, weaving through lanes like it was nothing. He knows he should stop, that he should get out of the way but he barrels through. Lights flash in his face, a warning he should heed. He has time, he can move whenever he wants, but this feeling, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, when was he ever going to feel that again? 

He is in control, he is the master of his own destiny, until he isn’t. One wrong move and the car is being flipped over, once, twice, three times. He can hear his bones break as parts of his baby are being strewn all over the highway. He doesn’t even have time to cry, or pray or beg. Every flip of his car screams his stupidity. All he can do is pray Cas would come and help. It’s funny, he hates the guy with everything that’s in him, and that’s his last thought. 

There are no regrets, save for one but that wasn’t worth thinking over now. As he hears the sound of wings beating, he can’t help but to smile a bit. At least the man upstairs lets him go to Heaven. 

***

 

Before long Cas realizes that he isn’t dead, this wasn’t Hell...and Dean hated him, possibly more now than ever before. 

Which bring him to the matter on hand. How on Earth is he still alive? Last he remembered Sam was ripping him apart body and soul...or in his case, grace. Technically he should be dead right now. Was it an act of God, his absent father finally granting him something he wanted? Was it the bond between a Hunter and his Angel? Anna did say the world has never seen a pair like Cas and Dean before. Did it include raising each other from the dead?

Thinking about it all wears him out even more. He needs time to heal and regroup. If Dean ever comes back he can just go invisible and quietly park himself in a corner until he was strong enough to go. Cas didn’t imagine their first meeting going as horribly wrong as it did, and to make matters worse he spent it all thinking he was dead. 

He thinks back to all the things Dean said to him, he deserves it, he knows that. But it doesn’t stop the words from hurting. How could he make Dean believe him; what acts would he have to perform to prove that he didn’t leave by choice? This is so much harder than the angel had expected; Cas has one relationship and he was already failing it. He doesn’t understand how people juggled multiple. It feels like nothing short of wearing his heart on his sleeve would make Dean understand, but since Dean seems to be immune to such advances, he’d have to give it time. 

Just then, Castiel feels pain like he has never felt before. It is unlike the pain he had been feeling from his earlier injuries. This was outside himself, as if it is happening to somebody else, but he can still feel it nonetheless. 

‘ _Help me, Cas._ ’ came crashing through the airwaves, as another roll of pain hits him like a ton of bricks. ‘ _Help me_ ’ he now recognizes the voice as Dean’s and wherever the eldest Winchester was, he was in a lot of pain. 

Castiel doesn’t have much in him get to Dean, but the pain is getting intense and that’s when Castiel knows that he will be able to feel the exact moment of Dean’s death. Every wish and regret would be Cas’ wish and regret. Every cracking bone and collapsing lung would be Cas’ as well. He will feel and experience as if it were his own, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. He tries to fly to Dean, but it’s no use, it’s not working, and Dean is dying right before his very eyes. For the second time Cas is about to fail another Winchester, but unlike last time Cas has to feel it happen.

***  
Dean wakes up on the side of the road feeling nothing, no pain, no soreness, nothing. He wonders briefly if this is Heaven. It would be just like him to have Heaven look like an open road. But then he catches sight of his baby and knows, that anywhere where his Impala is in ruins was no Heaven he wanted to be a part of.

He realizes that he can sit up, and move around with ease. So he’s alive, that much he knows for sure...but how is that even possible? 

There was that sound again. The one that sounded like beating wings. Dean is surprised after the way he treated the angel, he actually showed up to save him. This doesn’t mean Cas was being forgiven, but Dean wasn’t petty enough to not thank the person who had just saved his life. He turns around, opening his mouth to say thank you, but he closes it just as quickly. 

The person who had saved him was in no way Castiel. He was much shorter for one, and his eyes were different. Where Cas’ were sincere and electric, this man’s held a hint of cruelty behind the gold sparkles.

“You’re not Cas.” Dean says dumbly. 

“Course not, kiddo,” his savior says. “Name’s Gabriel. Oh and how’d you like the cake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for sticking with us for this long (and sorry for the long wait, after GISHWHES and school starting again, time got away from us.)   
> Happy Reading!   
> ~Garyne and Amanda

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beautiful writing partner Garyne. Thanks to Megan, Grace and Alaamsi for being our betas.
> 
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> destiel-grippedmetight.tumblr.com  
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